Lover Boy
by Mago
Summary: Draco Malfoy finds himself the target of an anonymous journalist's wrath & Blaise decides that he may just rekindle an affair with a girl he never shagged & maybe he knows more than what he's letting on about LG.
1. grand rekindling

****

all credit to kris, puh-leeze. she's so great i can't even bother to blabber on about her. she's so not mortal. she's too awesome XD.

ta!

* * *

**Lover Boy**

**Grand Rekindling**

**Almost Perfect**

_November Issue_

_Volume I_

By LG

'_Are you ready for the social event of the century?_

_The Annual Charity Ball is looming ahead of us like a promising social roller coaster. It is a widely known fact that the Ball is held religiously every year at a prestigious location; but interest among the general population has been dead for the last eight years. By no means do witches and wizards flock to the event as they did in decades past. As a result, the funds raised on the occasion are only a fraction of what they were at the peak of this yearly tradition—not enough to actually make a difference in our beloved magical world. It doesn't posses that grand presence that allured you to its very threshold, the razzle dazzle of desired surprises, the quantity of interesting options that were always offered. It doesn't pique the interest, it doesn't move you in any way except for habit. Then why, you ask, am I even mentioning it? Surely something as bland as this Ball can't really hold many promises to the attendants. Why am I classifying it as the social event of the century? Why, because this year's Charity Ball is being sponsored by none other than Draco Malfoy himself, owner of Malfoy Enterprises and current wealthiest man in magical London. He is the owner of many prominent chains in the wizarding world: Honeydukes and Florean Fortesque's Ice-Cream Parlour only being the most recent additions his daily income cove has come to swallow. The Academy in charge of the Ball considered him the most likely host to finally recapture the audience's attention and Lord Malfoy most graciously accepted their desperate invitation._

_The Ball is to be held in his very own manor: an ancient stone structure that has proudly weathered well over a thousand years. Lord Malfoy has gallantly opened the doors of his private residence in the hope of rekindling the lost tradition of raising millions of galleons for Wounded Witches, this year's elected charity cause._

_But what is it that makes Lord Draco Alexander Malfoy so irresistible to witches, wizards and warlocks alike?_

_According to the last edition of this magazine, he is "the one and only possessor of grey eyes that manage to chill you to your very bones and sear straight into your mind." According to our reporting source, "silver-blonde hair that brushes lashes that flutter down against chiseled skin, a Roman straight nose that provides him an aristocratic profile, and an irresistibly heart-shaped mouth only add to the marvelous apparel Lord Malfoy presents as a whole." He has a "feline and liquid grace that fills…his every movement" and a "stubborn" jaw, running in his family line for centuries. Elected three consecutive years as the most 'Eligible Bachelor,' his is one face you can't forget._

_But he has to be more than that. He has to be what has made him the top leading wizarding CEO in the market: the stubborn man, the sardonic shark…the inflexible competitor._

_Lord Malfoy has always been socially active in the highest aristocratic circles and his name has apparently taken permanent resident on numerous magazine covers. He has an old family name looming behind him, casting over him protective shadows of automatic authority and thus effectively sealing his impenetrable façade._

_But Lord Malfoy is not a man that takes defeat well. He is a man that can keep a grudge for years without end, and his pride apparently is the only thing that can surpass his egotism. True, you can trace his family name back to the beginnings of time and not a single squib has been born into their lines, but what does that reveal? Absolutely nothing, except for the fact that he indeed has powerful blood running through his veins.'_

Blankly, he let the magazine slip from his fingers and fall upon his desk. A smirk spread over his mouth as his eyes felt on the last line of the rabid diatribe.

'_Draco Malfoy is the living proof that appearances can—and will forever be—deceptive.'_

Oh, it had started well enough, he guessed. Objective, stating the facts, the obvious, but then…then she had strayed too deeply into her emotions for her article to actually cause some reaction. She had wandered off topic and it had gotten tiresome. Wasn't the article supposed to be a public relations act for the Ball? She wouldn't be garnering that effect if she continued in that way.

It was his third or maybe fourth read and every time he tried to reread the closing paragraph he found he couldn't. He felt like rolling his eyes and forgetting the article ever existed. It was too pointless. Too…blank. It was boring and lacked the usual innate signature that left her readers breathless. He had read her other articles and she was damn good. She always managed to ignite the spark of public indignation against the acts she protested, but in here she had let her emotions take control, making everything collapse into shite. Utter shite.

"Pity. It would've been a damn good article."

He closed the magazine, and stared at the picture that jumped out of the fuchsia background. A serious Draco Malfoy, a quote framing the picture that stared at you significantly while giving a curt nod.

"_It is something we all have to share, whether we want to or not. It's humanity."_

---

**on a different note, i hope you all guys liked this improved version of lb. i think it has improved SO much i'm close to tears. who would have actually thought i had it in me? (sobs) huh. oh well. so long.**

**'till death do us part, sweetie.**

**always & forever,**

°Gyn


	2. perfect

"Perfect." A frown marred Ginny's brow as she re-read the article, searching for any grammatical mistakes. "That stuffed hypocritical arse," she muttered absently, unconsciously chewing her right thumb nail. She narrowed her eyes as she spotted yet another mistake and glared accusingly at the monitor.

During times like these, she often wondered if she didn't suffer from that muggle illness Hermione was always preaching about: dizzy what? Ditz…um…Dyslexia! She had to proofread these damn things at least three times before they were even recognizable as an article. And Merlin knew she had to do it herself. She certainly was _not_ going to trust her words to Minnie Hart: the squealing, fumbling fool that was _Witch Weekly_'s parody of an editor. Her mouth worked a mile a minute, capable as it was of multitasking: simultaneously dissecting every gory detail of the latest addition to the rumour mill and smacking Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

After Ginny was sure that every minuscule error had been skewered by her all-seeing eyes she typed the initials 'LG' with a flourish of satisfaction, clicked 'print' and sat back, closing her eyes as her printer hummed to life. She would just add her article—printed on a sheaf of muggle paper—to the pile of loose parchment that was sitting on her desk and then the magazine dummy for this edition of _Witch Weekly_ would be complete.

Humming to herself, Ginny padded to her printer and collected her work. "Brilliant," she sighed. Nimbly, she shuffled through the parchment looking for the page numbers her article was supposed to be between, pausing as she was confronted with Malfoy's life-sized face.

Impassively, Ginny took out the loose sheaf of parchment for closer inspection.

"Damn, you're ugly," she commented spitefully, looking at the photograph with a critical eye. Pointy face, pale arse, perpetual smirk, hell you _sneer_. That's barely what I would call attractive, much less 'drool worthy'. So really, what's the attraction? Would you care to share?"

Here Ginny huffed, as if the picture had actually answered back.

"I'm _not_ blind. My sight's just dandy, thanks for worrying, I'm touched…Shut _up_. I believe I have remembered just why I don't like you." Arching an eyebrow, her humming increased a bit in volume as she twirled toward the other side of her desk, shuffling inside drawers as she wiggled her hips in time with her mental music.

"You really think so?" She continued the one-sided conversation with the picture as she straightened up, her eyes dancing. "Well, let's see what we can do for you then, _sir_," she snickered as she uncapped a black Sharpie marker. Who said muggles were useless, anyway?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Gloria? Hullo!" Ginny spun forcefully in her chair, her loose hair whipping around in a massive cloud of beautiful red curls which shimmered in the candle glow…that ended up slapping her in the face. Ginny coughed out strands of hair and proceeded to glare down at the offending pieces.

"I ought to have you butchered and turned into cheap wigs, you useless pieces of crap," she hissed menacingly.

"_What?"_ The nasal twang that usually made Ginny crawl out of her skin brought her back to attention. With a haughty I'm-better-than-you sniff directed at her red mane, she shoved it behind her ears and cleared her throat.

"Er, it's LG, Gloria. I think we're having a terrible connection: I can totally hear static seeping in," she improvised carelessly as she rummaged through her desk drawers. She frowned when she found an unidentified brown piece of…something covered with unknown blue specks in the first drawer. Carefully, she brought it under her nose and sniffed it. Grimacing, she threw it over her shoulder.

"_Well, it sure wasn't_ me_ who chose this method of communication."_

"Are you saying you're actually disagreeing with me?" Ginny answered in a sugary sweet voice, her hand still roving around her desk. Then she gave a mock gasp as her fingers closed around a bunch of familiar objects.

Ginny knew damn well how much Gloria hated muggle things, which was one of the reasons LG staunchly refused to communicate via the normal wizarding way. Besides, the Floo network had been out of service since the end of the war.

One of Ginny's sinful pleasures was arriving at the Sorting Section and hearing the unending stream of Gloria's most colourful curses, which most of them went along the lines of "fucking compuper." Despite being on the most isolated corner of the building—to which Ginny was a neighbour of—her gaffer's voice carried quite well to the hidden corners of the Owl Underworld.

"_I have this strange sense of déjà vu,"_ Gloria commented a bit snidely. Ginny, beaming triumphantly as she pulled a handful of sharp darts from the drawer completely ignored the tone on her editor's voice.

"_Do you have news for me then, LG?"_ Gloria changed gears abruptly, her voice growing crisp and businesslike as she started clicking her fuchsia nails one at a time against her desk.

Ginny chuckled as she heard the beginning of the nail-clicking and clucked her tongue in slight reproof.

"So impatient, Gloria," she scolded. "You know what they say: patience is a virtue," Ginny said, spreading the darts on her desk and picking a particularly sharp one.

Narrowing her eyes, she eyed her objective and aimed carefully. With a loud _zing!_ the dart flew through the air and imbedded itself in Ginny's study door; effectively piercing the—now enlarged—nose of a black moustachioed Draco Malfoy. Ginny felt a surge of childish pleasure at the scribbled face of her childhood enemy. The ridiculously enlarged ears gave her inner five-year-old a flush of pride.

"—_LG…LG!"_ Gloria's exasperated voice came through the line and Ginny rolled her eyes as she was diverted from her current entertainment.

"What?" Ginny snapped.

"_What? What! _I'm_ not the one who called."_

"Yes, well, you don't have my number, do you?" And Ginny had made damn sure of that. Even though it was a muggle artefact, the mobile had been charmed—courtesy of the twins—to block its number from being displayed.

"_It better be good, LG, we need it soon. We need to see some action or you'll find your cute little arse busted into the street,"_ Gloria sneered. _"You're late as it is. We're two days from publishing the magazine, with or without your _valuable_ contribution."_

And now Ginny remembered just why she hated this witch. Smug little slave-driver. She still didn't understand why in Hades Bill had actually dated her. If there was one witch who was totally oblivious to her undesirability, it would be Gloria Whitman Preston. From the red glasses that hung around her neck, to the white-blond hair that came straight from a potion vial and to the _generous_ bosom that spilled over tight suits, courtesy of Knock Up Your Knockers, Gloria wasn't really a winning candidate for Miss Wonderful Witch of the Year.

Molly had threatened suicide when Bill brought Gloria home to 'meet the family.' It had been a total disaster, destined to perfect failure since the very beginning. There was no way a girl would survive one of the twin's Guppy Gas Bombs for the Gorges (which were still under testing), no matter how much love she professed. Much less if she sprouted canary feathers. The relationship had ended soon after that, crushed under Bill's classy dragon hide boots. To him, family came first; but that didn't mean Gloria would dare step into the _Charmed Wand_ again ever.

Needless to say, since Gloria was hardly fond of the surname Weasley, Ginny had had to work her arse off to become anything more than a courier at WW.

"_LG! Are you hearing me at all? I have a meeting in less than five minutes, stop fannying around…dear,"_ Gloria threw in the endearment as an afterthought, probably thinking that it would soften up her statement.

"Weeell," Ginny drew out the word, giving a theatrical sigh. "I guess we can talk later if there is something more important than your front page. I was only thinking about the price this article deserves…though if you don't want it, I have this _great_ offer from _Glam Witch_…" she let herself trail off, waiting to see if Gloria would snap the bait.

"_No!"_ Ginny had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as she heard how Gloria cleared her throat and tried to compose herself. _"How much do you want now?"_

"Now, now, Gloria, you can't rush greatness," she scolded.

"_Of course I can, LG. I want it in the next edition of WW and Hart still has to go through it."_

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked in a scandalized tone. "You had better not be planning to ship off my precious baby to that blabbering mouth. When has a spiffy work of mine passed through an editor's hands?" She grinned as she heard the clicking start again double time, and Gloria's tired sigh.

Ginny could picture her boss perfectly: right hand holding her mobile a bit too far away from her face as she crossed and uncrossed her legs in an effort to keep herself from snapping at her highest rainmaker. Carelessly, Ginny propped up her mobile with her left shoulder and sent another dart flying into the moving picture that was now scowling deeply at her. This time it inserted itself in Malfoy's large right ear.

"_How much, LG?"_ Gloria repeated sharply.

"Oh, we'll see, love, we'll see." Ginny clicked her mobile shut and heaved a deep sigh.

"You're going to make me filthy rich, Ferret."

Draco Malfoy only stared.


	3. that wonderful arse of a woman

AN: I should be writing a seven-page essay about Andorra, but here I am, writing this third chapter and getting drunk on apple cider that isn't even fermented.

Pathetic? I would say so.

Disclaimer: Do you actually see a mob of reporters lunging at me?

Me neither ¬-¬

So let's just leave it at that, we all know that I'm not J.K.-ye be blessed!-Rowling.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"_Oh really?" The silky voice spurred warning signals all over her spine. She almost shuddered. Almost being the key word. She swallowed noiselessly and waited for him to continue. She wasn't about to bite his dangling bait._

_Suddenly this call didn't sound like such a good idea after all._

"_And exactly how are you planning to do just that?" he asked narrowly and Ginny allowed herself quite a husky chuckle._

"_You will see soon enough."_

"_Who are you?" Again that silky caress that was delicious to the bone and dangerous to the mind._

"_Depends on how you want to see me," Ginny paused as she heard Blaise's laugh. Too much perfection for her taste. Her grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles whitened and her eyes narrowed. She waited for him to finish so that she could continue. "I can either be your friend or your enemy. It's all your choice Blaisey dear." She chuckled internally upon hearing him growl at the nickname. "Now where do you want us to meet?" Ginny asked sweetly, pleased with herself once again for having won over the control over this anonymous conversation. Who had the upper hand in these mental games was technically _crucial

"_This better be good, girl," Blaise snarled._

"_Oh, trust me, it is, _boy_," Ginny said with a laugh at his short temper._

"_Tomorrow, Charmed Wand at nine," Blaise growled._

_Then the line went dead._

Now Ginny was here, standing before a full length mirror while observing her reflection intently. She had changed dresses for at least a dozen times, and now she was barely satisfied. She had to look pre—no, _gorgeous_—before Blaise Zabini. She didn't want to be rated. If Blaise Zabini was accustomed to beautiful, then beautiful he would get.

But that was quite a difficult task to accomplish if you considered the fact that you were not even pretty.

Plain wouldn't do.

Not at all.

Azure eyes gazed steadily back at her, and her curly hair reached her waist. She had always been rather fond of her long hair, and that was the only asset she possessed that she thought of as delightful. Parted to one side, the curtain of red hovered teasingly before her dark blue eyes. A sapphire blue dress clung to her waist, almost like a second skin. She was almost uncomfortable already.

She wasn't used to wear such…_indecorous_ garments. But Blaise was…

'_To hell with what Blaise Zabini is accustomed to!' _Ginny internally cursed. She wasn't about to pass a hell of uncomfortable hours just because a _boy_ wasn't accustomed to _plain_ women. He could go and meet Hades for all she cared.

Yet, she didn't change apparel. One look at her clock prevented her from doing just that. Yelping in surprise, she grabbed her purse and cloak and ran downstairs, almost snapping, more than once, her stiletto heels.

"_Foutre,_" she hissed in French as she skidded to a halt before her fireplace.

'_Floo's disconnected, you moron,'_ a voice sneered.

'_Really? Thanks for the unnecessary reminder, arse,'_ she added as an afterthought.

But then, she had never been one lover of the Apparating allure. It just made her too queasy. She eyed the star-shaped box that contained her beloved Floo powders with longing. What she did for her career…

Quickly making her decision and before she could change her mind, Ginny took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and squeezed her eyes shut.

A loud _'crack'_ after she was not there.

--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Stupid _whore_!" The roar reverberated against the crystal chandeliers as Draco Malfoy flung a magazine against the far off wall. "How does she dare insult me like that? The vicious bitch doesn't even _know_ me! Sucking parasite that wants to become famous at my ribs!" His gorgeous features were set in an ominous scowl and his eyes flashed against the dull shine that was thrown off by the dimmed lights. "I'll just rip her—"

A caressing hand upon his chest stopped him from sending something, anything, crashing against the walls.

"Draco, sweetheart, come on, don't you think you are exaggerating a bit here?" a brunette cooed as she started to rub his lower stomach insinuatingly and to nibble his neck in the most tentative way.

"Heatheburn, fuck off," Draco growled. Obstinately—_or_ brainlessly—the girl still clung to him. "I _said_ fuck off!" he yelled as he flung her away from him and into the sofa. He started the pacing again while the woman simply snarled at him.

"Fine! I _will_ fuck off Draco Malfoy. Just don't come later on begging me to return, because I won't!" Slinging her designer purse into her shoulder angrily, Victoria Heatheburn disappeared from view with a resounding _crack_.

Draco resumed his ranting after she had left and started to curse under his breath, pacing to and fro. He knew he had totally lost control, but in his enraged state he couldn't bring himself to care. He was thinking about the many ways he would kill this precocious journalist that had just ventured too far into uncharted territory.

As he heard some light footsteps behind him, he growled dangerously.

"Didn't I just tell you to _fuck_ _off_?"

"Here my dear Drakie-pooh? Oh my, aren't we a bit urgent? Why don't we go to your bedroom, eh? Maybe there I can satisfy you better…" an insinuating and sardonic voice replied from behind him and a smirk grew in his lips as he recognized the owner of the voice.

"Zabini," he said pleasantly.

"Malfoy."

The last vestiges of his anger reduced to nothingness as he elegantly swirled around to come face to face with the aristocratic features of a green-eyed Sex God. Midnight black hair and delicately satirical lips. Elegant, straight, Roman nose and mischievous emerald green eyes that promised lustful fantasies fulfilled—to women of course. That was the description Draco had received from a female that had recently enjoyed Blaise's—err, rather pleasant attentions.

"Getting an eyeful, aren't we?" Blaise smirked arrogantly and lounged in a comfortable settee, not even bothering to wait for Malfoy to give any indication that he could.

"Bastard," Draco muttered as he circled the place, causing Blaise to let out a husky chuckle. There was a moment's silence as they both eyed each other discreetly.

"So, what were you grunting on about before that wonderful arse of a woman left and I made my appearance?" Blaise drawled lazily.

"You checked out my girlfriend?" Draco asked; an eyebrow up, half-amused, half-annoyed.

"Allow me, Draco dearest. Girl-space-Friend, got that? Or fuck buddy, whichever you prefer, since for you, those two phrases seem to be synonyms," Blaise threw back thoughtfully. "But for her to be your girlfriend-_without_ a space-she would need to be visited more than once a month after you have finished out your other—_rounds_. She would need to be here on a daily basis, and let me assure you that I _know_ that she's not, so spare me the chase," Blaise drawled lazily. Draco narrowed his eyes, chose to let it go for the moment, and pointed heavily at the magazine that now lay sprawled on the floor—greatly mistreated—open exactly at the offending article. Raising an eyebrow, Blaise sauntered over to the place. Both of his eyebrows shot up as he read the title of the otherwise insignificant column.

"'Lover Boy'?" Blaise let out a chuckle as he now read the title of the magazine. "'_Witch Weekly_'? Since when do you entertain with this pile of _crap_, Malfoy?" Then an amused, sly grin spread over his face. "Oh my, Draco!" he commenced sarcastically. "Why didn't you tell me?" Blaise inquired amusedly.

"Inform you of _what_ Zabini?" Draco snarled imperceptibly.

"That you swung _that_ way, of course? I mean, we all saw the signs, but we took them to be just another part of your rather, um, _queer_ character, but now I understand."

"You ceased to be amusing the precise moment you opened your _trap_," Draco ground out. "For your mere information, that is Miss Heatheburn's magazine." Draco lounged on the settee that was across from the one Blaise had been sitting on. "The wonderful arse of a woman," he added as he saw the quizzical look on Blaise's face. "She told me to read the article."

"Aw, and you, being the sweet and obedient _little_ boy that you are, jumped up and just asked her 'What page?'" Blaise asked as he sat once again.

"Something to that extent, yes," Draco replied as he sipped from a delicate, glass goblet of _Médoc_. Blaise snorted, unbelieving.

"She must've given you some tight sex. She probably had you begging to read the goddamn article before eight o'clock," Blaise simpered conceitedly.

"Yes, something of the like," Draco repeated with a smirk of his own.

Blaise scanned the article rapidly, his mouth pursing to keep the bubbles of laughter from spilling out.

"See what that—that—that _woman_ wrote about me? It's preposterous, really!" Draco muttered furiously and Blaise had to swallow the bouts of hilarity that menaced to spill forth.

Sober once again, he shrugged carelessly at Draco and thrust the magazine at his chest. He started to walk towards the liqueur counter to serve himself a good drink, but his steps were stopped short. _Something_ stopped him, something about that article. He took the magazine from Draco's hands and read it all over again. He narrowed his eyes as his eyes hit on the otherwise insignificant letters. _LG_. Somehow those two letters, those initials, rang a bell in his mind. Trying to act calm and collected—he _was_ after all a Zabini—he reached for his silver pocket-watch and checked the time: 8:35.

"It was a lovely and rather lively discussion Malfoy, but now, if you'll excuse me, I've got another business to attend to." Blaise started to walk away, but Draco spoke before he could go any further than two steps.

"Zabini, you came here for a reason, and I expect you to explain your rather abrupt departure from what had promised to be a rather long and tedious visit."

With a sigh, Blaise turned around to face Draco once again.

"I know you don't want me to leave you Drakie-pooh, but really, can't he wait 'till tomorrow?" Blaise asked as he looked meaningfully at Draco's pants. Draco growled and pointed a finger at the door.

"You are now very much welcome to _leave_."

"Aw, pity. I was getting ready to have some fun," Blaise said with a pout.

"Out!"

"No need to get cutting there, Draco baby. I know when I'm not well-received in a house—"

"Zabini, just shove your poor and pathetic excuse of an arse into the fucking street," Draco said vulgarly.

"Hey! Let me tell you that my ass is one of my best assets! It has been drooled upon by quite a few hot chicks…Literally. I've actually got firmer buns than what you would ever dare wish for in your godam—" Draco practically threw Blaise out of his house and slammed the door behind him. From outside, there came a rather faint, "_Au __revoir _my beloved one! We shall meet again!" and Draco had to smile. They had been friends for twelve painful years and he still wasn't completely sure if Blaise swung _that_ way. Hell, he had seen him shag more than his plenty share of women, but sometimes…

Draco shook his head, and with a chuckle he directed his steps towards his bedroom, undressing on his way there.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Blaise presented a Cheshire grin into the cold wintry night.

"Merlin knows I love women, but it doesn't mean that some teasing will hurt." He grinned wickedly and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his _roquelaure_. He quickened his steps. He was late to meet the Sexy Drawl, as he had nicked the chick that had phoned him last night._ Way_ late. He now understood about what she meant about '_Drowning Draco Malfoy'_, but if she thought that some simple girlish articles would get his boxers in a twist, or barely mean something to this mate, she was quite mistaken. He broke into an almost run when the town clock let out nine beats.

Then, suddenly, he stopped.

'_Your foolhardiness astounds me, Zabini.' _He could almost hear Draco's voice.

Rolling his eyes at his stupidity, he closed his eyes softly and a '_pop_' was all that was left of Blaise Zabini after the fraction of a second in which he decided to Apparate.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ginny asked the maître d' what time it was for what seemed to be the eleventh time that night.

Looking at her with somewhat akin to pity in his eyes, he dutifully announced that it was now 10:30.

"Do you wish to order now, _mademoiselle_? Or perhaps you are willing to wait…?"

The _bastard_.

After narrowing her eyes at him and assuring him that she would be ready to order in a few minutes, Ginny laid her head down upon the table dejectedly. It seemed that she had been officially stood up. But the worst part wasn't that she wasn't having dinner with the hottest guy she knew, but that she was uncomfortable as hell. Three men had already asked for her phone number and two more had offered her a glass of champagne.

Men, _honestly_.

Just because she was wearing a long, glittery, dark, blue dress that clasped around her neck, leaving her shoulders-oh so incredibly exposed!-with slits up to her thighs and stiletto heels didn't mean that she was on a freaking hunt mode. That proved that when men saw some flesh, they thought with their dicks instead of their heads. But then again, what was that gag about men not being able to cross their legs because then they would crush their brains?

'_Well, maybe the fact that you're _alone_ is what keeps luring them'_ the voice snickered.

Ginny growled at it and a woman seating at a nearby table turned to look at her weirdly. She bared her teeth at her and the woman hurriedly returned to her studying of the _carte_.

How could she have been so stupid as to believe that Blaise would actually come? She _was_ Ginevra Weasley after all. But Blaise didn't know who it was that had called him so late that night.

'_Well, he probably recognized my voice,'_ she reasoned with herself, but she couldn't quite convince herself of it.

So what was the reason he hadn't come?

'_Probably forgot,' _Ginny told herself, but that voice again interrupted.

'_Or he is with a girl and they're shagging like bunnies right now.'_

She scowled and gripped her menu tighter.

Oh, but he would pay for this. He wouldn't even know what the hell would be happening. It would be just like that. BAM! And he would be-a slow and delicious smirk spread across Ginny's lips-_castrated_.

She was savouring her perfect vengeance when the delectable voice she was just despising purred in her ear.


	4. OoC

"Waiting for someone, m'dear?" He relished the slight shiver she managed to control at the contact of his lips in her ear. He placed a delicate kiss just barely behind her earlobe, and this time Ginevra Weasley couldn't do anything but grit her teeth.

Only minutes before Blaise had still tried to discard the option of her being the culprit behind that laughable-but-capable-of-driving-Draco-nuts article. It had been just a coincidence that the initials at the bottom of the page concurred with the initials of a nickname he had applied to one vixen.

A redheaded one at that.

He had tried to convince himself, as he had entered the restaurant, that the redhead at the far end table wasn't the same as the one he had been thinking about, that there were many scandalous redheads in the magic world with sensuous, long legs and with that appetizing neck and…

And those shitty excuses came tumbling down when that slow and so-damn-sexy smirk crept over those moist and delectable lips. The one the cat always has after he has eaten the canary.

"So much for coincidence," he had muttered as he silently made his way towards her, his eyes trained on her while his mind furiously worked to decipher what the hell Ginevra Weasley had against Draco Malfoy that made her hate him so much.

Except for the fact that he _was_ Draco Malfoy, of course.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ginny had almost growled deep in her throat as she had heard him speak, but had tightly reined it in. No use acting all mad when he didn't even know that she was the one he was late to the date with.

"Blaise!" she exclaimed, choking her throat to a most cheerful note. "Whatever are you doing here?" she asked, trying to play dumb.

"I was expecting you to answer me that question, sexy," he said as he confidently took the chair directly in front of her. The _only_ chair at that.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "_Fine_, Blaise. You want to go straight to the point—stop gazing at me so steadily. Gives me the shivers, you know it," Ginny stated, but gazing back nevertheless. "What? You're surprised to find _me_ here, of all possible women in this expensive restaurant that I just _can't_ afford?" she questioned defensively, eyes narrowed, after a long silent interval.

"It's…_nice_ to see you again Ginevra," Blaise drawled as he eyed Ginny's clothing, as if she hadn't just spoken.

"Don't bother," Ginny snapped as she lay back on her seat, arms crossed, pouting like a child. She was exasperated by now. She suddenly remembered just _why_ their relationship hadn't ended in the best of terms. Blaise was too arrogant for his own freaking handsome, gorgeous self.

And Ginny too when you came down to it.

The only difference had been that Blaise accepted the fact and Ginny stubbornly refused to talk to him after he had pointed that out for two weeks, telling him she didn't talk to 'underlings that didn't know how to respect their betters'.

Talk about self-centred.

"Meeting someone?" Blaise asked.

"Should have by now," Ginny shot. "But it seems that he didn't have enough, hm, _balls_? To present himself." The double entendre seemed to be lost on Blaise as he gazed at her white folded hands on top of the table.

That pair was one marvel.

If you didn't know Ginny, but spent a day watching her hands, you would know her inside out.

Whether you wanted to or not, it was not an option.

The way they arched when she was about to start telling you something really interesting, the way they fidgeted when she was hiding something really naughty that she had just done; the way they twirled her hair when she was trying not to look you in the eye because she had just fed you the biggest lie imaginable, the way they posed when they were about to write and create, the way they danced through your hair when she was trying to say feelings that were too big for her _so_ supple lips; the way her fingers curled up on themselves when she was disappointed—yet again—by some bastard, the way they seemed to itch when she was angry but wanted to simply snog you senseless anyway, the way they held her head when she was crying, the way they elegantly ripped through your senses when they met yours, the way they went limp, dead when she realized that she wasn't loved back anymore by…

"We've never been on good terms Ginevra. Not even when we _snogged_ were we on good terms. So would you care to explain? Enlighten me, perhaps?" Blaise asked sort of curiously.

"_Enlighten_ you?" Ginny asked sarcastically. Blaise was never the one to use fancy speech patterns.

"Why, yes, would you mind too terribly?" Blaise replied.

"Fancy that," she muttered. "As to what? As to the fact that we're both here for the same phone call that _I _made, but you insist on denying?" Ginny asked bluntly. "Or as to explain why was it that I called _you_, specifically of all the people I could've called?" Ginny waited as if to hear Blaise's answer although they both knew that none would come. "I can't assure you that I have the answer," she said quietly, both knowing that she was referring to the last thing she had just said.

She had known that by calling Blaise she would be stepping into dangerous territory. Not only would she be revealing her identity, but she would be playing a fairly wicked game when it came down to Blaise and, well the raw facts.

"Remind me again why you dumped me?" Blaise questioned, and Ginny couldn't help but chuckle.

"I believe you should be the one answering that question since it was _you_ who graduated and didn't seem to have a use for me anymore after gorgeous Pansy Parkinson decided that she did want you after all," Ginny replied with a casual shrug that belied the anger she had felt for being forgotten to the favour of a woman prettier than she.

"Ouch. You injure me, dear. You sure conserve your nerve, but gentlemen don't have memories, savvy? So I'm guessing that you're the one who got rid of me."

"Well, then it would be because I wouldn't stand a second more your cheating on me, or to the fact that I was a simple bet?" She tilted her head to her left as she drilled through Blaise, her gaze steadier than fire.

"I declare myself mortally wounded. Dare deny forgiveness to a man in his deathbed?" Blaise asked with the same intensity, his intended to be cynical words coming out like anything but. Certainly Ginny had made some radical changes in her personality. He wondered who had caused them…

"You," Ginny interrupted his thoughts simply, answering his unspoken question—unintentionally? "Are here for a reason, are you not?" she continued after a while. She didn't even wait for his answer. "So why don't you get down to business?"

"I thought that _you'd_ be the one here on business Ginevra. I never knew you to go out with anybody just for pleasure," Blaise responded with a smirk.

Oh, he was a bastard.

And he loved every single minute of it.

"And that's why I dumped you," Ginny smirked in return. "Insensitive bastard. Perfect reason, no? Ah, well, life does go on."

"I've done worse," Blaise replied laconically, the double meaning knifing through Ginny, even though she made neither comment nor expression.

"Yeah, you probably have, no? I mean, you've fucked _Pansy_," Ginny shot back disdainfully, knowing very well that _nobody_ would ever put Pansy and her in the same sentence as to comparing their beauties. Or lack thereof in Ginny's case.

"Jealous, Ginevra?" Blaise asked, an eyebrow rising maliciously.

"Of what, _Pansy_?"

"Your grammar is appalling, love. It's of _whom_," Blaise scolded, his index finger wagging from side to side.

Ginny suddenly had the impulse to bite it off his hand, but she didn't want to end up throwing up just because she had tasted shit, so she settled for glaring at, instead.

"In Pansy's case _it_ is a _what_, dear," she replied venomously, her voice dripping feigned sweetness.

The maître d' came up with a simpleton smile, cutting off any further discussion. "May I offer the two lovers a bottle of our best French wine?" he asked as he lowered the bottle for the two of them to appreciate, as he directed a painfully obvious wink to Ginny. The girl just rolled her eyes and settled back against the plush chair she was sitting on.

Blaise eyed the waiter and then at Ginny, catching the continuous wink that didn't seem to stop from his left eye.

"Do you have something in your eye?" he asked, deadly serious, but Ginny could see right through him and grinned wickedly.

"Um, no sir," the guy answered, quickly sobering up.

"Then you're hitting on my girl?" he growled, and the waiter's face turned a chalky white as he noticed Blaise's menacing posture even while sitting.

"Oh _no_ sir! Definitely not! How could I? I mean…" The waiter stuttered helplessly as they both watched with confined amusement as he tried to make out a half-decent comeback. "Not with _her_, sir!"

"Are you calling me unattractive?" Ginny cried falsely, her scandalized voice rising to an alarming high pitch. At this, the wine waiter became even more nervous and started darting his beady eyes up and about.

"Definitely not, _Signora_! Please let me…"

"Blaise, he's calling me unattractive! Do something!" Ginny wailed as she stood up, her face already blotchy from her pretended tears.

"Are you calling her unattractive?" Blaise growled, standing up and looking down to the attendant. The poor guy couldn't do anything but cower upon coming up with Blaise's formidable and imposing figure.

"N-n-no sir! Please allow me to mend my erring selection of words by bringing you and your _beautiful_ companion the best _Veuve Clicquot_ of the house. My sincerest apologies for any misunderstanding I have caused." The waiter went away, half of the time bowing his apologies to Blaise and Ginny in the midst of disapproving murmurs coming from the people in the restaurant.

As Blaise pulled back the chair for Ginny to seat back on, he leaned to her ear and whispered, "You better stop smirking like that if you really want us to discuss business."

Ginny arched a haughty eyebrow and turned her face towards his, leaving their lips only millimetres apart. "Or else, what?" she murmured daringly, barely moving her lips.

"Or else we will be in my flat, and we won't exactly be discussing business."

Ginny had to laugh at this. _But_ she caught herself and turned that smile into a ferocious scowl.

"Shut up, Blaise."

"Such a swinging humour we have today, love. PMS, much?"

"I'm with you, love, what did you really expect?" she asked sweetly.

Blaise's eyes gathered an impish shine. "Hot sex," he answered blatantly.

If Blaise was searching for a blush he sure as hell hadn't known her ever. She had grown up with _six_ brothers and it had been to avail. "Maybe another day,_ love_," she answered disdainfully with a smirk.

"Too much for you to absorb, sweetheart?"

"Not really. I would say that I'm rather disappointed in you, Blaise. Your move on me was far from smooth," Ginny grinned as she drummed her fingers against the expensive table. "One would think you're losing your touch." A damn lie if she'd ever told one. He was as suave as that day when he had made his first move on her.

"My, my, aren't we on the feisty side today?"

"No, I'm just happy. Finally I have Draco Malfoy's anger. Every girl's dream come true," she supplemented sarcastically.

"Why do you assume that you provoked any reaction whatsoever in Draco? How do you even _know _he read your article?"

"You're here," she answered simply. "It means that you have a _reason_ to be here. This could only mean that Draco did get mad and that your curio has been piqued as to what my plans are whatsoever."

Blaise observed those dark blue eyes with rating. He saw determination definitely flashing and settling camp there, and also pride that rivalled his. Smart girl. She knew what she was doing. And hell, was he interested. He wanted to know what hot yarn ball this ardent wildcat was toying with now.

"What _are_ you planning to do, Ginevra?"

"I thought I already had made that clear, Blaise. I'm drowning Draco Malfoy," Ginny answered, her head tilted to the left, her hair cascading in blood waves.

Bloody masculine hormones. Why did she have to look so bleeding _sexy_ when she did that?

"Stop. You're making me nervous." Ginny could've hit herself then and there as she saw the Cheshire grin that curled Blaise's lips the moment she had uttered those words.

"Am I now, little vixen?" he asked sultrily.

"Thanks for the nickname, really helps my already low self-esteem to lower another two points," Ginny said uneasily, trying to change the topic to more comfortable areas. Making a huge effort trying to appear anything _but_ uncomfortable as hell.

"So I still stir reactions from you, don't I?" Blaise asked.

"Dream on, _Blaisey_. Quit the games," she snapped. "Aw, hell," she said exasperatedly after a while. "Why do you have to be so fucking _hot_?" She took out a beige envelope from somewhere and laid it against his cup of wine. His name was scrawled at the top with the most beautiful calligraphy that could have only come from her own hand since it reeked of her essence. She stood up and turned to leave.

"Leaving so soon, sexy?"

She waved her gloved left hand dismissively.

"Yes, gorgeous," she called back.

"Aw, _why_? I was having so much fun!" Blaise pouted.

"Because then we will be on your flat, and we won't exactly be discussing," she repeated with a smirk and started to walk away.

It took him a fraction of a second to react to her swaying and departing hips.

With lithe steps he reached her and hugged her from behind, his right hand splayed against her lower stomach, and the other snaking her waist.

Murmuring in her ear, he asked, "That wouldn't be so bad, now, would it?" He planted a kiss just below her ear lobe, and he could feel her shiver.

"Bastard," Ginny gasped.

He sure as hell remembered her weak spots.

"Answer me, love."

Arching her neck, Ginny answered in an airless whisper, "Yes it would Blaise. Addictions are not good."

She released herself from his grasp and sauntered out of the restaurant.


	5. A Tiny Interlude

_Blaise, love,_

_It was nice to see you, really. But if I gave this to you means that I was about to fall into your courtly charms—_again_. Honestly, how predictable can I get? I'm so sad. Hope you're having fun with our Pansy wench. Does it hurt your ego that she married & it wasn't exactly you on the honeymoon night? See why you just don't dump people as if they were tissues? Hope you did enjoy it while it lasted though. Really, I didn't write this letter to know about your sex life _(shivers)_. Or lack thereof. Aw dear, stop the scowling, I was just kidding! Of course I know that you don't _lack_ anything _(snort). _Keep in mind that that was just an ego booster, love; don't get your hopes high. I'm not stupid enough to fall for the same thing twice—keep your comments to yourself! That's an incident I prefer to keep between ourselves, thank you very much. Jeez, this is more difficult than I thought. Penning you a letter proves to be almost as challenging as resisting your charms, dear. So I guess I should just get down to business and stop the nattering._

_Well, yes, _LG _does stand for you-know-what—and wipe that smirk off your face, bastard. Why did I write you this letter if I was only going to insult you? Because I enjoy doing _it_. Insulting you, that is. Ah dear, I'm sure you didn't miss my double entendre. I should have been in Slytherin? Well, that's another secret of mine, so shush. Honestly, if I knew that you would be reacting like this I wouldn'tve even written the letter. Oh whatever, you're simply hopeless._

_You may be asking yourself why in Merlin's balls I would start attacking Draco Malfoy. Besides the obvious reason of him being himself, I hope to keep it a secret. So no, you don't get to know about it._

_Yes, yes, I know. Then why did I call you? Well, because love, I can't live without you. You're all I need._

_Idiot, stop parading around. I need your help, arse. You are his best friend, no? So I'm guessing that you know more of him than I will ever do. And yes, I know what you're thinking. Why would you betray your best friend for nothing? Well, you're wrong. It's not for "absolutely bloody nothing" as I'm sure you're thinking & _no_ I don't read minds, just yours. Don't ask me, it's freakish. Now, back on topic. That's the reason I'm writing this at all, so stop pouting. Knowing that you so definitely don't lack money, I am willing to offer you anything you want._

_Now, be reasonable, love. I can't really be your fuck buddy so no, choose another thing._

_No, I won't have a trio that involves Pansy and you. Ew, honestly! What do you think I am? _Parkinson

_I can't stand the cow._

_No! I won't give you any oral work._

_I'm signing off now before you start wanking off at my sultry remembrance._

_Whatever._

_When you come up with something _reasonable_ that doesn't have anything to do with sex, give me a call._

_Oh! And of course, you talk, you die. You know what I mean. Nothing personal, just job issues._

_Love ya!_

_Ginevra Weasley_

**(Mâgo)(Mägo)(Mägo)(Mägo)(Mâgo)**

With a sigh, Ginny plopped down comfortably into her couch and kicked off her bloody _high_ heels.

Those suckers.

She was sure she would be needing crutches tomorrow, so help her. And she knew just the remedy: get piss drunk.

She snapped her fingers and a _crack_ resounded all over the living room.

"What would mistress be wanting, mistress?" The squeaky voice of the domestic elf chagrined Ginny's strung nerves.

"Just bring me some Chardonnay, please," She forced herself to add the please. She really hated their tinny voices sometimes. Enough to make you want to strangle them to take of their voices boxes.

"Yes mistress, as mistress pleases."

Heaving another tired sigh, Ginny closed her eyes. What exactly had she done back in the restaurant? She wasn't even sure. Had she flirted? Had she teased? Or had she made it straight that she wasn't even minimally interested in him?

_Uh huh, Ginevra, you practically _swooned _all over him._

And what had those last lines been? Argh, she didn't even want to remember. She had sounded so much like a slut…and looked like one too with that bloody dress. She had literally _offered_ herself to him.

Pathetic.

She decided she hated herself.

For now anyways.

Taking a sip of her calming wine, she basked comfortably in her place, trying to think of other things instead of the bloody SexGod she had just had a date with and that wouldn't stop flirting with her in all possible manners.

Had Blaise read the letter already?

Arse, what happened with the different topic? She didn't need Blaise Zabini interrupting her thoughts at this moment, _thank_ _you_.

The letter had been a second option, but it had turned out to be the best plan. If she had stayed a bit longer Merlin knows what would she have done…or where would she have ended. And a part of her conscious really told her that it would've been somewhere _near_ Blaise's bed. Along the lines of…

And there she went again.

"Better do something productive before I start having steamy daydreams about Blaise Zabini like a hormonal teenager," she declared disgustedly to no one in particular and with no regular emphasis, as her voice lacked conviction and her sprawling in the couch didn't cease. She didn't particularly fancy writing at this moment. She was completely and totally drained…but she had to be continuous in her attacks, or if not, people would start losing interest, and she could not afford that and then she would start thinking about Blaise and just how _much_ could have happened and…

She would bring Draco Malfoy down even if that meant her typing her ass off.

Reluctantly, she sat up and padded barefooted to her study.

Suddenly the night seemed too short.

**(Mâgo)(Mägo)(Mägo)(Mägo)(Mâgo)**

Ah, what a dress _did_ to a woman.

Well, at least Blaise wanted to believe that the confidence Ginny exuded was because of a dress. He wouldn't ever forgive himself to have let go of such a girl if it wasn't the dress that made Ginny so…fuckable. So he tried over and over again to convince himself that it was the _dress_ that made her feel more secure of herself and therefore making her more daring and alluring, and delicious, and shaggable, and hot, and sexy, and sensual and…

Sweet Nimue was she gorgeous. She had looked almost good enough to eat! And those last words, those had definitely been the killers. That exit couldn't have left him feeling any more sex deprived. He had come home so frustrated that he had even risked phoning Pansy to bring her ass over to his apartment, and no, he didn't care if his husband happened to ask for her, he needed a good lay, _now_. And _what_—Blaise had to smirk—was Pansy to decline? A good shag was a hell of a good shag.

So she had come scurrying and so damnably hot, and he had fucked her so roughly and thoroughly that the bitch couldn't even stand the next morning.

'_Tsk, tsk Blaise, you're being crude,'_ he reprimanded himself, but the smirk remained. He really couldn't help it. But he would change topics anyways, he was thinking too much about Ginevra Weasley already.

Draco had been so mad last night.

Served him right for pissing off such a _woman_.

Blaise hadn't really forgotten Ginevra Weasley during all the years that had passed since his graduation from Hogwarts.

Who could ever forget her?

She was every guy's erotic dream.

And contrary to her belief, her red hair was her most basic appeal. Red equals fire, ardour, passion, fervour, which literally assures you a wildcat in bed. And her sizable assets really did help increase the male's zeal with her bedding. Blaise admitted it, he had started talking to her just because of the vows he had heard that she was a-one-of-a-kind-shag and _his_ oath that he would be able to seduce her into submission within the year.

Why not? She was a gorgeous vixen, and he was a guy after all.

So, he had started wooing his way into her pants.

Blaise had laughed when he had heard her state it so clearly and irreproachably. It was true dammit, and she knew it, so it had been no use denying it. And so she had let him. Maybe she hadn't cared, maybe she had; probably she was in also for the sex. Who would ever know? Blaise hadn't exactly cared. Of course he had a reputation backing him up, so it appeared to be a win-win situation.

Her kisses and caresses had been hot and tight promises as to what would've come if Blaise had stuck around enough time to find out. Yes, there had been quite some steamy sessions, but no actual…intercourse.

Yes, Pansy _had_ found a use for him after all.

But her infatuation for him had once again been short lived and she had dumped him unceremoniously one day while at a café. So he was once again sex deprived, and yearning for a certain redhead that would fulfil his debt.

He had been quite angry with Parkinson, now that he remembered.

Actually it was a wonder how come they were still fuck buddies…

But Ginny had exaggerated on the cheating part. Really, he had never slept with anyone when he was 'going steady' with her. Things had never gone beyond some sweltering French kissing sessions when he was with the other girls and Ginny had caught them, honestly. But these girls just had to be so bloody _picky_!

But then again, she had a reason to be picky. She _could_ be picky, which was a priority back then.

And she still could bloody well be picky now. Hell, now she could just arch an eyebrow at a man and snag him.

Blaise already had had some little images playing around in the edge of his conscious…

Damn, he had to stop thinking about Ginny.

As if on cue and answer to his prayers, the phone rang.

A phone. Who would've thought that wizards would actually end up using such vile muggle contraptions when they had the wondrous net of Floo?

Problem was that Floo wasn't exactly accessible anymore. Since the defeat of Voldemort—really, Blaise had to snort—the Floo network had been taken down without further ado and would be up and running in no time soon. As it seemed, the Dark Lord—a fit of laughter didn't help either—had filtered to the Ministry—gasp!—through this ever useful network, and had managed to extortionate—snort—some of its commissioners into joining his side and turning them into making-believe-useful spies for him. Ironically, after all the extents the old chap of Dumbledore had gone through to 'protect' Hogwarts, it was through there that The-One-Who-Shouldn't-Have-Been-Named-but-Still-Kissed-Blaise's-Ass had filtered through and fought the dramatic final battle, in which through a pathetically shouted "_Finite Incantatem_" Pothead had won. After all, it had been a spell that had kept Voldemort alive, hadn't it?

Blaise rolled his eyes as the phone continued to ring persistently, as if on purpose to irk him. Honestly, didn't people get their peace these days?

Oh what the hell. A chance wouldn't kill. After all, it was thanks to him—he was pretty sure it was bloody Malfoy who was calling—that he had stopped thinking about how positively delectable Ginny had looked and all the little naughty things he would do to her.

Growling, he picked up the phone.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" he snapped.

"Sex. Though it's a shame I'm not Dray," came a sultry voice.

Blaise let out a sigh. "Chastity?" he asked morosely.

"Actually, no." Hell, he could almost _hear_ the frown. And he knew that voice, he was quite sure.

"Margot," he continued with his guessing.

"Blaise!" That petty cry was impossible to not recognize.

"When can you come, Pansy?" he asked as he lay back in his expensive sofa, his smirk turning predatory.

"What makes you think that I want to go after you didn't recognize me?" she huffed.

"Because you're simply dying for an encore as to last night," Blaise declared arrogantly, his mind already replaying some parts.

"Arrogant git," Pansy sniffed, but didn't bother denying Blaise's statement. Too true.

"Won't your husband start suspecting something?"

"To hell with Marcus, I'm not really in the mood to be tolerating him right now," she said a tad childishly.

It really was a shame how such _hot_ women went to waste as they married bastards.

In the whole extension of the word.

It was a well-known fact that Marcus Flint Son hadn't been born to the definitely sterile May Belle Meriwether Flint, but Marcus Flint Father had impregnated some other—conveniently anonymous—whore in his youth and later had May Belle adopt his little bastard.

But bastard or not, the prick would still inherit the whole fortune of the family, so there really weren't any buts as to where his compromise with Pansy was. Married they would remain. Until his natural death or until she had him killed.

"So when are you coming?"

"When I can actually stand, bastard," she pouted prettily. The smirk got wider.

"Then that will take some time, love," and he hung up.


	6. bad faith

_**Lover Boy**_

**Bad Faith**

**by _LG_**

_Mal foi (_French

Literal translation_'bad faith'_

Lucius Malfoy was born into a long line of last names in the ancient and respectable city of Verona, Italy. Though everyone considers his line one of the most prominent wizarding families, it wasn't until the birth of his son that they returned to England.

This family is respected—and feared—by many people, but everyone has its secrets, and the Malfoys, of course, are no exception.

It is not common knowledge, but you can find a ban against this wealthy and prominent family from ever returning to England for specified and very clear reasons. A Malfoy was found guilty in a trial for the murder of a member of a much more respectable family than his.

This veto was decreed in the late 1800s, when Phobos Malfoy—grandfather of Lucius and patriarch of the Malfoy clan then, committed murder against Torrentine Spell, a single and beautifully charming young lady that had her life terminated too early as she faced the un-survivable wrath of this man for the simple fact that she refused to fall into his leering traps.

It was a well-known fact that Phobos Malfoy had been courting Torrentine for some time, and that the girl gave no signs whatsoever of finally caving in and accepting his marriage proposal. As it seemed, the Spells knew what the Malfoys were made of. Allegedly, this is what finally caused Phobos to snap in a tirade against her and kill her on the process.

The exit of Phobos Malfoy from the house of the victim around the time the crime was committed was testified in court by more than two people. Nobody considered unusual to see Malfoy exit that house with a scowl in his face and spitting oaths from right to left. What they _did_ consider unusual was to see Malfoy exit more than pleased with himself, adjusting his appearance, as if he had just gone through some kind of exertion. Neighbours were shocked and stimulated into declaring as they learned of the horrible crime that had been committed technically under their very noses.

The Magically Enforced Forensic Team (MEFT) report read that Torrentine Spell had put up resistance but was overpowered soon enough, since there were swollen handprints in her face. The state in which she was found was deplorable. She had been beaten and the cause of her death had been determined as strangulation by hand, a typical muggle way of assassination, especially for men. As a result, the _Spell-Ma_ case flocked many wizards and witches alike to its courts. Phobos had won a sour reputation with the citizens of London, with his knack for dirty business he had brought down most of all the tiny empires those hard-working citizens had brought up. He had managed to bitter the most cheerful person, he had seduced many married women simply for his taste's sake…he was the devil incarnate.

Everyone knew or believed with fierce conviction that Phobos Malfoy had committed the crime. Everyone except for the jury, as it was. He was declared innocent and vindicated, and he had strutted out of there, not one single scratch on his body, not one single charge over his shoulders.

The people were enraged. If the country didn't prove to be just enough, they would take the matter into their own hands. Torrentine had been the last person to fall before Phobos Malfoy. They would tolerate it no more.

They raided Malfoy Manor stealthily one night, and bound Phobos and brought him andtied him before a huge stake, the fire already eating at the hay. There, facing his sins and the open hands of the Averno, Phobos Malfoy forgot dignity and screamed for mercy.

A mercy he hadn't had when he had caused so much suffering among this now ruthless people. The fire slowly ascended, and Malfoy shrieked, but it fell upon deaf ears.

Finally, a pious woman yelled for them to stop. Mallory Spell couldn't handle seeing it. Not even if he was the murderer of her daughter.

The case was reopened and closed again seeing that Malfoy had accepted his kill. Too powerful still to be sent to jail, he was confined to exile for the rest of his days. His family and he were doomed to live under disgrace for the rest of _his_ life.

Still thinking that was too little a punishment, the citizens of that past London, cursed the Manor with the most powerful oaths they knew, and sealed it, never to be used again.

The cursed Manor is still inhabited.

Our beloved Draco Malfoy lives there.


	7. Damn it All

_**Don't like? Don't read, don't complain. Flames shall be used to roast marshmallows, thank you.**_

**_IMPORTANT MUST READ: I _must_ apologize for what happened _**(grins sheepishly)**_. In one of the many times I find myself playing with my account, I accidentally—I swear!—I deleted chapter II of this story, consequentially managing to mess every single chapter up seeing as the moved up one when I deleted number II, chapter III then taking its place and then moving everything up one, and—argh! A damn straight mess that became! So I had to delete every single bloody chapter and upload them yet _again_. So that's why you guys that have me _**(grins brightly) **_on their alert list received mails telling them that I had already posted another chapter and all that…incredible mess I found myself in ¬¬. Well, the point is, I posted every chapter once again, and let me tell you that some of them do indeed have major changes, since I always manage to proofread my backup over and over again, altering some little things and then some major things, so please, go and read chapter II and VI again, since they're the ones that have changed the most. You may also notice some slight differences in the resting chapters, but nothing heart-stopping, don't worry. Another thing, I don't know how many of you have read my bio as of late, but I am now posting warnings to those who have also read _The Auror After Me, _I shall be taking it down. I'm sorry, but it just _has_ to happen. Also, I shall be changing my penname quite soon, so don't be surprised, ok? I already have my potential new name, but I need to see if it's not already on use._**

**_That's all, thank you, and I apologize for the inconveniences _**)****

**_The Feral Nattering of the Authoress: _**(Clears throat and begins a painful ramble of off-key singing)

_Happy birthday to youuuuuu, happy birthday to youuuuu, happy birthday dear memooorryyyy, happy birthday to youuuuuuuuuuu! Happy birthday to you, you were born in a zoooo, you act like a monkeeeyyy and you smell like one toooooo!_

**_Lol, just kidding mem0ry. Hope you had a great birthday and that you will enjoy my rather…erm…late present_** (grins sheepishly)**. _Sorry for not posting it earlier or on the exact date of your b-day _**(July 9th it is?)**_¸ but I hope you shall be able to forgive me, he-he. Remember that I'm the one who writes the stories!_**

_**Mem0ry?**_

**_What are you doing?_ **

_**Lower the knife Mem0ry!**_

_**Lol.**_

_**Happy birthday.**_

**For you, from me ).**

---------------------------------------------

Ginny almost choked with her instant ramen as she tuned the WWN and the first thing she saw was Draco Malfoy's scowling face. She was about to switch it off—she obviously wasn't a masochist—but as she saw what the topic of conversation was on the interview, she settled back and watched as she whole show unravelled before her. She wanted to see in just how many ways Draco Malfoy could make an arse of himself.

"…I have absolutely nothing to say. I shall not waste my time clearing cheap feminist tricks that go against my person or my family. They are nothing more than that: cheap rumours created in the midst of a fierce desperation for attention, and let that be clear," he growled.

"_Desperation for attention?"_

"Hm, that actually _rhymed_, Malfoy," she said pensively. "I think I should give you some credit. That's quite an achievement you've managed there. But nah, I'm not you." She cheerfully continued eating her instantaneous dinner.

"But sir, we have received confirmation from the editor in chief of _Witch_ _Weekly_ that LG indeed has information that backs up her article, what do you have to say in that matter?" a reporter asked as he thrust another Spherecorder in Draco's direction.

"Damn right, uh huh," Ginny nodded emphatically, really anticipating the prick's response.

"Not a single sentence in that article can be legally proved, and as far as I'm concerned there is nothing more to say on that laughable and obviously _false_ subject, next question, please," he said pleasantly.

"'Laughable and obviously _false_,' that's you alright," Ginny answered with narrowed eyes. Then she burst into hoots as Malfoy answered the next question with "no comments".

"Cat got your tongue, ferret? No, no, what was it again? Ah yes, the _she-weasel_. Immature arse," she scoffed as she absentmindedly rubbed her socked foot against her left leg. Then her feet crossed at the ankles as she comfortably propped them up on the low coffee table that had _Witch Weekly_ opened up to her—LG's—most recent article and got comfortable.

A smirk appeared on his face as one of the many nameless reporters present asked him the "next question".

"I sincerely do hope that this…so-called journalist is prepared to face the repercussions this article is about to bring upon her. A magazine that possesses such a high-profile as _Witch Weekly_ should not publish articles that nobody wants to read and that most definitely fall into tabloid category," he admonished with a raised eyebrow, staring straight into the lens of the Spherecorder.

"Hey!" Ginny cried out offended. "Tabloid? _Bastard_. And I mean it quite literally, mind you," Ginny interrupted herself with a giggle only to continue more heatedly. "And if nobody wants to read my articles why has _Witch Weekly _currently 'fallen' under the sold out 'category'? So there!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms and pouting like a child; then went on to whoop out loud as the next reporter proceeded to point out just that to the slimy git.

"People are attracted to novelties, Mr.…?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Pardini, sir, Luciano Pardini."

"Ah, my dear mate Luciano," Ginny smiled. You could always count on him to have the greatest points. "Note to self: send our chum Luciano Pardini a bouquet of roses in acknowledgement for his brilliantness."

"Ah yes, Mr. Pardini, as I was saying, people shall always be attracted to novelties, there's this natural magnetism, but soon this LG _fever_ will pass, and this woman and _Witch Weekly_ will find themselves with more red numbers than they can handle," he replied in a bored fashion as he continued to drill through the reporters, his glinting, steely eyes boring through the minds of many there.

Ginny was saved another of her comments as she realized her house phone was ringing, and had been for quite some time.

With a yelp, she shot up from the couch, spilling her still scalding ramen all over herself.

"Merlin's balls on skates!" she hissed as she started waving her right hand frantically in an attempt to cool the injured spot.

She ignored the searing prickles of her burns as the phone continued with its persistent ringing and she tried to run all the way to her study…in socks. She realized her mistake too late, as she frantically slipped and saw the tiled floor coming closer and closer. With a tiny shriek of surprise she landed on her bum, with the phone still ringing annoyingly on the background.

"Aw, come off it!" she complained as she struggled to stand up, only to end up slipping yet again. "This isn't happening," she groaned.

And the blasted phone didn't stop ringing. Holding on to her furniture she finally managed to wobble up into a standing position.

Now, on to the phone mission.

Limping, bent over, and rubbing her hip, Ginny unsteadily made her way to her study, to where she kept the _only_ house phone.

"Note to self: buy a dozen more of those. Call to install them as soon as possible," she muttered as she finally collapsed on her swivelling chair and lifted the receiver.

"Hello?" she answered.

"_Could you please explain just _why_ you answered the phone?_" a bossy disembodied voice demanded from the other side of the line and Ginny inwardly groaned. _Count on Gloria to have such a _perfect_ timing._

"That would be because it was _ringing_?" Ginny responded before she could stop herself. She widened her eyes and covered her mouth with a slap as she realized just _what_ she had said and to _whom_ she had just said it.

"_I'm _sorry" Gloria claimed.

'_Oooh, suck up time, Gin'_

"Um, nothing, just the WWN acting up," Ginny covered. She nodded. _'Great save,'_ she congratulated herself.

"_You're watching the WWN and you're _still_ there? Just what kind of journalist do you consider yourself to be, Vicky?_" Gloria snapped.

"Its Ginny," Ginevra corrected idly as she ran a hand through her hair and internally rolled her eyes.

Gloria didn't even acknowledge her comment. "_Explain why you are not out there, asking the hell out of Draco Malfoy._"

"What?"

"_You heard me Gina, why aren't you one of those reporters that are lunging at him like bloodthirsty hounds? We need the note! It's about us, you know._"

"It's not about us, it's about LG," Ginny talked back. "And its _Ginny_," she threw in as an afterthought.

"_LG, us, what's the difference, really? She _belongs_ to us you know,_" Gloria said snidely, just a touch of exasperation in her voice.

"She doesn't _belong_ to anybody, Gloria, she's an _independent _writer, and does _not_ take kindly to people claiming to _own_ her," Ginny snapped angrily. "Besides, why the hell would I be there, of all places? I'm a _journalist_ if you haven't noticed as of late, and _journalists_ don't circle like vultures a.k.a. reporters around a person," Ginny claimed. "Not physically at least," she added smilingly. "There _is_ a difference."

"I.don't.care_. You better have an article by tomorrow Annie, or your career as a _journalist_ will be over,_" Gloria punctuated her theory by slamming the phone.

Ginny furiously narrowed her eyes, glaring at the now beeping receiver, then took the phone machine ("It's GINNY, damn it! GINNY!"), swung it over her head and flung it with all her might against the back wall…

And her momentum sent her sprawling from her swivelling chair onto the floor, ending up in a groaning and cursing red heap on the floor, limbs at awkward angles.

"Damn it all."

-------------------------

Harry walked with his head bowed, his hands shoved deep into his coat's pockets and a frown marking his brow. He was in terrible spirits, his mind a total disaster, feelings akimbo with a jumble of insecurities sprinkled here and there and then crowded _there_.

Not new.

He heaved a deep sigh, his footsteps echoing loudly against the deserted street. He was grateful for the solitude. After all, that was why he had stepped out of The Burrow for a couple of private minutes. It had been rowdy and crowded, as always, and he needed to think, to make up his mind on so many different things, in so many different levels, that he just needed to…walk.

Surprise, surprise.

The cold air usually managed to dissipate any kind of wariness, but tonight, tonight it only managed to sharpen his doubts and mangle the false sense of security he had managed to lull himself into for the last couple of months. But, but life went on, and he had to move along.

Alone or accompanied?

That was the question.

He sighed again.

Sighs seemed the only thing he had been living off for a couple of weeks now; at about the same time the doubts had decided to start nagging.

And he knew right now there was only one major decision that worried him in that instant. And, not surprisingly enough did have at least something to do with the inhabitants of that particular household, one in particular. One redhead.

He chuckled at his own redundancy but frowned at his way to wiggle out of the heavier decisions. Stepping around it would never take him anywhere, and he knew it, but there were just so many things that he needed to be sure of first and so many things to prove and… And the list would just go on and on, as it always did. He was just tired of it all, damn it.

"_The major decisions will always be there, no matter how much you manoeuvre to step around them. Sooner or later they will loom before you, blocking you from avoiding them any longer and from going on with your life at all..."_

Surprisingly, it had taken Ron—of all people—to utter these words to shake him off his denial and reluctance and face everything…and everyone.

No, not everyone.

Just her.

Only her.

Forever her.

------------------------------------------

Blaise smirked as he settled back on his satin covered bed, his hands roaming—yet again—the body of a beautiful bimbo. They had just arrived and Blaise hadn't wasted any time, bringing the girl straight to the point…

And then the girl dipped in for a kiss.

Blaise barely had time to react as he turned his head just in time, to which the _drunken_ girl ended up just giving him a delicious kiss to his neck.

Giggling, she straddled him. "Blaise!" she exclaimed playfully as she tried again to steal a kiss and once again failed.

"Ah ah ah!" Blaise chastised as he wagged his finger in front of her face. He smirked when she took that same finger into her mouth and started to suckle on it deliciously.

"No what?" she asked as she traced her fingers on his chest and leaned in to nibble on the sensitive flesh of his ear.

"No teasing," Blaise growled.

"Ah, no teasing." The brunette straightened up, still straddling him, and started unbuttoning her blouse slowly, barely revealing glimpses of tempting flesh. "No teasing then," she repeated as she finished her task and discarded the designer blouse into the faraway reigns of the floor.

-------

Blaise woke up with his body most exquisitely tangled with the brunette, trying to decipher just _what_ had managed to awaken him. And then a telltale hum indicated that the automatic starting of the WWN had worked like every single evening and that it was running. Reluctantly he managed to decide which limbs belonged to him and got up from bed, throwing on a black silk robe on his way out.

No use scaring the hell out of the house elves.

He smirked at the thought.

The fall of the shadows confirmed indeed that eve had fallen and he headed straight for the kitchen, his bare feet cold against the black and green veined marble floor. As he served himself some orange laced with some of Ogden's best he unmistakably heard Draco's voice coming from the living room.

"So the boy does need some pleasant company after all, hm?" Blaise smirked to himself as he stated the double entendre and lithely walked towards the sound of Draco's voice.

"Changed your mind, little Dragon? Ready to come and play with Blaisey?" he purred seductively as he neared the living room.

"…cheap rumours created in the midst of a fierce desperation for attention, and let that be clear," Draco fiercely stated although it came out muffled as in the mahogany doors seemed to still linger a bit of the silencing spells he had cast earlier that day with the girl, and Blaise chuckled.

"Say what you say, Draco, you're the one who came. You came to _me_," Blaise answered, not quite going inside the room.

"Not a single sentence … can be legally proved, and as far as I'm concerned there is nothing more to say on that laughable and obviously _false_ subject."

Blaise could laugh at the fierceness with which Draco was answering, but he held back, wanting to taunt him a bit more.

And it was then that he heard the other voices…

----------------------------------------------------------

Harry had made up his mind, and there was no going back. He had finally managed to step right _in_ to the decisions, and to his surprise he had found it extremely easy. He couldn't believe he had avoided it for so long when everything had turned out so easy. This time he sighed with relief and some happiness as he headed back to The Burrow. No use in making Molly freak out over his absence. Although he _had_ told Ron where he would be… With a warm smile he stepped into the equally warm and welcoming milieu.

Hermione was the first to stand up and go to him. She looked so radiant and happy with that sparkle in her eyes that Harry couldn't help but feel happy for her. He recently had started to notice that it seemed the girl had some kind of worry upon her, for there had always been a frown upon her face, just like there had been one on him just a few moments ago. He was relieved to find that he hadn't been the only one to be able to solve his problems.

"Harry! You finally came back! I need to talk to you," Hermione declared as she pulled Harry inside and took off his coat, the smile remaining on her face and going wider still as Harry answered her bashfully.

"I—I have to talk to you also."

"Great, let's go up to Ginny's room, we can have a bit more privacy up there," she answered as she took his hand and started a dash up the stairs, her laughter ringing up.

When they arrived she threw herself at Ginny's bed, apparently carefree of anything and everything.

"Wow, you certainly seem happy today, 'Mione," Harry observed, his smile remaining soft and his eyes distant as he thought about the object of his decision.

"Well, I most certainly am," she answered, her voice tinkling.

"Ah, yes?" Harry asked, eager to tell her his news.

"Harry…" Suddenly, a blush spread on Hermione's face and Harry finally focused his eyes on her, wondering what was happening.

"What's up, Hermione?"

"Harry, I—I—I…"

"Um?" Harry prompted.

"I—IthinkI'minlovewithyou," Hermione stuttered out in one jumbled sentence, her head ducked, her face beet red, and Harry just looked at her, his head tilted to the side, as if he hadn't just heard a love confession from one of his best friends.

"Say something," Hermione mumbled after several minutes, her fingers nervously playing with the bedspread's edge.

"You think," Harry said calmly, his gaze unwavering. He really didn't seem to comprehend what the hell was going, but then, Hermione nodded.

Damn it all.

----------------------------------------------------

Blaise frowned.

If he heard more voices it meant that there were more people inside.

_Well, no shit_, he thought.

"Draco?" he called out questioningly. Draco wouldn't have brought other people, would he? Not to _Profundis Clamor_, not to his estate!

"…Ah yes, Mr. Pardini, as I was saying, people shall always be attracted to novelties, there's this natural magnetism, but soon this LG _fever_ will pass, and this woman and _Witch Weekly_ will find themselves with more red numbers than they can handle…"

What?

Something smelled fishy in here, and Blaise was quite sure that if he smelled at all would be of the bimbo's expensive perfume, so no, it wasn't him. What was Draco up to, bringing strangers into his estate, knowing fully well what kind of _things_ he preserved in his territories? He had to find out.

Hell, this was his house, he could just shove open the door and leave every freaking mystery behind and confront Draco.

Decided, Blaise shoved open the door…

To find himself in front of the three dimensional display of WWN.

Damn it all.

-------------------------------------------------------

"No," Harry declared as he stood up, erasing the now tentative smile from Hermione's face.

"What?"

"I said no. You're not in love with me, Herms; it's just…temporary confusion." He started pacing the room, inhaling Ginny's scent. Hell, why did she have to bring him to the room Ginny used to occupy of all places?

Ginny…

Hermione bit on her bottom lip, feeling as if she was about to cry. But then…but then bossiness can always win out in the end, and hell, she had been a bossy know it all for most of her years. "You call temporary five years!" she cried as she also stood up and walked straight in front of him. "I don't think _so_, Harry Potter, now, would you at least respond in some other appropriate way!"

"Like what?"

"Well, duh! An 'I love you also' could do for now," Hermione declared sarcastically.

"Hermione, you can't!"

"And just who do you think you are to go around telling me what I can and can't do, hm?" she emphasized with a poke at his chest.

"Hermione, I'm marrying Ginny! You can't, see?" Harry finally exploded as he explained and Hermione froze, her face draining of colour.

"Wh—what?"

"Yes," Harry said tiredly, sitting down on the edge of Ginny's bed. "I'm marrying her, I'm going to make her my wife, I'm going to take her as my eternal partner, and I'm going to love _her_ every single day…"

"Stop, please stop," Hermione said as she whimpered slightly. "Why?" she managed to ask between tears.

"'Mione, listen, I thought Ron had already told you, since I had already commented something of the sort with his family and…"

"He did! He did tell!" Hermione yelled. "But I just thought…I…just thought that…oh gods, how stupid can I get?"

"Hermione, it's not your fault, things just happen, and I didn't mean to hurt you and…"

"Just shut up Harry," Hermione said as she tried to compose herself, her eyes about to spill again with crystal tears. "I'll be leaving now, and nothing of this ever happened. I never talked to you, and everything will be alright if we ignore this and…"

"'Mione, we can't ignore this, not now, not ever. If you are willing we can still be…"

"Don't even finish the sentence, for God's sake. Maybe later. Just not right now," she declared as she walked out of the room.

Hell! Who would've thought that _Hermione _of all people would just…?

"Oh, and congratulations by the way," she said bitingly as she poked her head back into the room.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the place where she had been just moments before and started cursing. He was marrying _Ginny_, and that was it.

Damn it _all_.

----------------------------------------------

Blaise stood there, his eyebrow arched in disbelief.

"Pathetic," he muttered grimly at himself and proceeded to take a seat of his comfortable leather sofas and sip from his spiked juice as he finished watching the interview and shutting off the program.

"I would say so, yes, very much," a voice drawled from behind him, and this time he chuckled.

"Why, you little bastard," Blaise said as he waited for Draco to enter the room.

"You were getting your hopes up, eh Zabini?" Draco smirked as he took a seat opposite from him.

"It's not too late to seek redemption, Dragon," Blaise answered suggestively and Draco outright laughed.

"Not a chance," he smirked and Blaise shrugged.

"It was worth a try."

"Sure as hell was."

Draco smirked and looked as Blaise finished off is juice.

"So, what you were going on about in the bloody interview?" Blaise asked as he rolled the ice cubes inside his glass.

"Ah, that? Nothing worth the bloody scandal, let me tell you," Draco answered nonchalantly, leaning back and getting comfortable.

"The 'so-called journalist' then, eh?" Blaise smirked over the edge of his glass as he took an ice cube from it.

Draco snorted and nodded. "Yes, the so-called journalist. Read her most recent…Blaise?" Draco elegantly arched an eyebrow as he questioned exactly what Blaise was doing with…the ice cube.

Rolling it all over his chest and neck, that's what.

"Hmm?" Blaise moaned.

Bloody hell.

Damn it all.

------------------------

**_Feral Nattering of the Authoress: Well, that sure turned out to be longer than expected…I thought I would only be able to type up four pages, and look at this, eleven already in Word! You should give me chocolate for this. Lots and lots of chocolate._** P **_Thanx to all those who reviewed, really, they mean a lot to me. And once again I have to apologize for the late update, but as it is, I turned out to fail one semester of a class _**S, **_can you imagine? Quite pathetic. So now I am stuck with some tutoring sessions in some unknown classrooms up until the end of this month, can you believe that? Oh well, it did turn out to have a bright side, as I met this incredible girl who also _loves_ anime and Harry Potter and drawing and fanfics and...Lol, you get my drift. But the bad thing that this potential-friend is not on my schedule of classes _**( **_, yeah, I know, pathetic _and_ sad. Oh well, life sucks, what's new?_**

_**ºgyn**_


	8. interlude

_**Don't like? Don't read, don't complain. Flames shall be used to roast marshmallows, thank you.**_

**_Disclaimer: _OwnHarry Potter? (hysterical laughter).**

**_Feral Nattering of the Authoress:_ Tuuut! Hello there, everyone! See? Didn't take me much to update: just a couple of reviews eh! Ah! But nobody remembered to feed me ¬-¬. You should give me chocolate, you bunch of selfish brats! (sticks out tongue) Only blissfulxsin deigned to feed my starved body (sobs but huggles blissful). So you bunch of conceited, self-centred, egotistical selfish prats that keep all the chocolate and want to dominate the world can rot for all I care (glares), blissfulxsin and I can keep on living as she sends/feeds me chocolate - nn.**

**Sugarsugarsugarsugarsugar… Lalalaland!**

**Lots of looove and huggles and kisses and endearments and hugs and embraces and smooches and all those synonyms to you guys who review and keep reading my story!**

**Wow, and I didn't believe them when they told me that that candy had after effects OO.**

**Yes, I'm immature and childish, want to bitch fight?**

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Draco swallowed hard.

Zabini was just laying there, his long fingers guiding the rapidly melting ice cube all over his neck and chest, moaning and seemingly enjoying it, while his other hand clutched the expensive leather of the futon he was lying on and Draco was just there.

What the hell was he supposed to do anyway? It's not like he would be able to survive this without psychological scarring. So he just sat there, completely repulsed, but somehow strangely engrossed with what Blaise was doing.

Zabini, with his midnight features and knifing eyes was technically his opposite in almost every aspect of his daily life. While Blaise had black hair, he was a platinum blond. And while Zabini had impossibly green eyes, he had impenetrable eyes of steel. And while Draco had made his sexuality _very_ clear, the name Blaise Zabini was still clogged with doubts about his. They were so different, so opposite to each other, that they were strangely the same. And so, as Draco watched Zabini turning himself on with an ice cube, he found he looked _hot_.

And that sounded so bent, but people tended to take some statements in the _wrong_ fashion. Because Draco's reasoning worked like this: If Zabini looked hot doing what he was doing, and they were so opposites that they were extremely alike, that meant that Draco would also look hot doing that… Bloody brilliant.

The Cheshire grin that spread over his features made Blaise stop dead.

"Now what, Malfoy?" he asked with a groan, as the ice cube had melted completely already.

------------------------------------------------

Ginny heaved a tremendous sigh as she closed her laptop.

Incredible things those muggles came up with!

She positively _loved_ making Gloria struggle. That witch being a bitch (could it be the other way around?) barely even knew _what_ a computer meant, least of all what _internet_ was, and so she sent all her articles muggle way. It had been so hilarious to see her lugging a crate that contained her precious computer and even more uproarious still seeing her trying to use it without electricity.

And now, now she had another article to send via e-mail to the headquarters of _Witch Weekly_ and if she hurried, she would be able to see her trying once again, unsuccessfully, to turn on her computer. And then, then she would call 'Annie, Vicky, Gina, whatever' to turn it on for her. And then she would be there, reading her own column, under another completely different identity.

Draco Malfoy.

Damn it, she had mélanged Blaise into this, and somehow, now, on clearer thoughts, it didn't seem such a good thought… Sometimes she found herself thinking if it was even worth it, toppling Draco Malfoy's career as the richest wizarding CEO just because…

Just because.

She opened her cell phone, speed dialling on three.

"Hello? Yes! It's me dear…"

----------------------------------------------

Ginny walked with her bowed, her pace swift. She had managed to dial DeMerina and set her up for a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks after work, but she really wasn't up to it. She had just dialled because she was feeling alone.

Yet again.

Not that she would ever admit that out loud to her.

But it was not like she needed to mention it. DeMerina was a shrewd person, being a Slytherin her intuition was innate, and she didn't need but a sigh to clue her in to Ginny's current mood state. But Ginny had been surrounded by Slytherins most of her life, and she knew just what not to do. She had been Blaise Zabini's girlfriend, damn it, and DeMerina had actually been the first one to accept her into that sanctum circle that only Slytherin seemed to keep.

So DeMerina had stayed around.

And now, more than ever, she needed her company at least. Because she was the only one, besides the twins, that knew what the hell was really going on in Ginevra's head.

-----------------------------------

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't _care_?" Ginny cringed as Gloria roared in her ear. "I _told_ you to have a bloody article _ready_ for _today_! I'm quite sure that even _you_ could understand that command. I sure as hell know that you are capable of doing that. May be rather mediocre at the job, but you still write and that would've been enough! It would've passed through _me_, and I would've improved it, damn it!" Ginny had her mouth open ready to protest in indignation, but it seemed that 'Chief Gloria' wasn't about to let her interrupt her cute little rant. "But now? Now we've got _shit_! Oh yes, we just let a flaming opportunity pass right beneath our goddamned noses, and it's _your entire fault_. Now? Now even the _Quibbler_ will be able to bloody outsell us! The _Quibbler_!" Gloria seemed offended at the mere thought as her eyes widened with that realization, fuelling her outburst to be a bit louder. "Oh sweet Circe, have mercy! WHY? AH! Because this incompetent _journalist_ wasn't bloody able to do her _job,_ as she refused to go and interview Malfoy himself because she is a _journalist_, oh fucking boo-boo! We will soon be flooded with more red numbers than we can cope with, quoting the seemingly Seer Draco Malfoy, because witches and wizards don't want to read a magazine that is _not_ up to date in the magical world. And do you know what? Once again, it's _your entire fault_. And do you know what again?"

It seemed that 'Chief Gloria' was expecting an _answer_.

Internally rolling her eyes, Ginny answered with a dripping sweet, "What?"

"You should be bloody GRATEFUL that I just got off the phone with my friend LG and she told me that she had just seriously covered our bases on that matter and that I shouldn't worry for the magazine, because she had everything in her hands, and she would handle every single little thing for me. You should well be bloody GRATEFUL," she repeated.

"Oh yeah?" Ginny asked, her right eyebrow quirking up as an amused smile lit up in her face.

"YES!" Gloria roared as she noticed the _gall_ of the amateur witch.

"And just how much did 'your friend LG' charge you 'for handling every little single thing for you', eh?" Gloria's eyes immediately narrowed, and Ginny found her inner self cackling with delight.

"You're fired."

"WHAT?"

----------------------------------------

**_Feral Nattering of the Authoress:_ (cackles) I'm loving myself right now, because, once again, I realized that _I_ have the _absolute_ reigns in this story, and that I can do with it whatever I WANT! Isn't it wonderful?**

**Yeah, so I tend to forget that at times, what about it?**

**Ok, drifting off topic right now. I want to tell you, you guys that I may stop posting for at least a week…**

**Why?**

**Oooh…you want to know? Well, I'm going off camping with my friends and anonymous people :P for a whole frigging week! Isn't that absolutely bloody brilliant? I finally get to enjoy something from summer! Damn, it's bloody fantastic. And about the tutoring sessions? No more…at least for this week (sigh). I'm leaving Tuesday, and today's Sunday, and you can bet I'm excited. Let's see how it all turns out, eh?**

**Well, seeing you poor things will be missing me for a week, go ahead and get on with it… ;)**

**Love always and 4eva,**

**ºGyn**


	9. would you mind?

_**Don't like? Don't read, don't complain. Flames shall be used to roast marshmallows, thank you.**_

**Natters-nutters: _Oh Merlin, I'm sorry. I hadn't noticed just how much time I had taken to get my arse in gear & update. It actually took _Mishavay_'s review to guilt me into checking this story again & it was then that I realized that it had been _months_ since I had updated. Positively _awful. _I hate the authors who have these great stories with these thousands of reviews & they just leave them hanging there in the _Indefinite-Hiatus-Limbo _because they never update! & so now I hate myself because I realized I'm _partly_ one of them because although it's not such a great story & it doesn't have thousands of reviews I do have it in the _Indefinite-Hiatus-Limbo._ So I'm scum. _Uh-huh._ Whatever. For reals, I had started this chapter ages ago, but I had never really taking it to heart finishing it. I mean, I had just focused all my energy into reading instead of actually writing (btw, you wouldn't_ believe_ the stories they're publishing as of late! Everything is total _shite_…I will change it into _almost_ everything, or I'll be hanged, though I do believe it's _everything. _Except for _Misconceptions_ by _Heart's Cadence_. Go & read her story, aye? It rocs socs, _uh-huh_.), so my stream of attention wasn't really great for writing mood, but I guess that after all I've read (d&g rockers, suckers & fuckers), I finally found my inspiration somewhere on that road so, yeah, here it is. The awaited chapter nine. Hopefully, I haven't lost the special touch for this story._**

_**Ta.**_

**I wouldn't have killed Sirius; I wouldn't have made Snape kill Dumbledore either. I wouldn't have forced Ginny to go out with Pothead. Yeah, she was forced, didn't you know? Well, it's privileged information. Only d&g shippers know the true story. So no, I'm not bloody Rowling. Though we all love her, don't we? After all, she did torture Harry in the fifth book. So yeah, we love her.**

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"_I will not care if you sell your soul to Lucifer himself. You shall bring me a name, and you shall bring it to me _now_," he said silkily, his tone of voice belying his fury._

"_Sir Malfoy, I'm afraid this search isn't as simple as it appeared to be at the beginning. The woman has taken great lengths to protect her identity. Not even Gloria Whitman, Witch Weekly's editor in chief, knows who she is," a gruff voice answered by the crackling line._

"_And you know that because what, you _asked_?" he said scathingly. "You idiot. You're working for me, Draco Malfoy, nemesis of this so-called journalist, the name itself is considered a plague in those offices at this moment and you just parade in asking for her name? Gloria Whitman does not have a naïve bone in her body; those flimsy articles have her magazine selling rates sky high. She knows what she is doing, and not for all the galleons in the world will she leak her name to you, of all people," he sneered._

"_Well, _sir_, I'm open to suggestions." The mocking comment caused more of a rise out of him than what he was willing to admit. He sat upright, his grip on the phone went knuckle-white and his eyes spontaneously narrowed dangerously. Shakes had been working for him for years, and it appeared to be that the hound was getting a bit too self-assured, too cocky; confident that everything he knew about the Malfoy family could be used as a weapon in his favour. Maybe Lucius had been right after all._

"_I don't care what you do Shakes, as long as I'm behind your merry trips to Overdose Land you will have to do what is _required_ to do. And do you know what I'm _requiring_ of you as of right now?" he asked silkily. "I'm asking for a goddamned NAME!" Draco thundered as he slammed the phone._

--------------------------------

"Blah, blah, bloody _trash_," Ginny muttered as she threw the five inch file over her shoulder. "Ooh, food!" she said excitedly as she spotted a can of cashews shoved to the back of the file drawer. She reached for it hungrily and apparently didn't catch the sound of sloshing inside the old can as she opened it. An acrid smell reached her nostrils and she violently let go of the can. "Fucking Morgana! What are _flobberworms _doing here" Twisting her features in a grimace of I'm-grossing-out, she shoved the drawer close. "Let Gloria have a lovely goodbye present," she muttered with a grin. "I still can't believe the bitch fired me…" Ginny complained as she shoved yet another thing into the already packed box stacked with the useless clutter that used to be on what used to be _her_ desk.

No more.

"It was too cramped, anyway," Ginny said reproachfully as she looked around her tiny cubicle—it wasn't even an office, dammit!—and realized how much clutter she still had to pack. Binders brimming with papers, useless folders were everywhere and 'Hell' was still present in her north wall. Staring hardly at the cut outs and articles that now covered the whole wall as she walked toward them, she stood there, her face almost pressed against the paper clippings and face to face with Draco Malfoy's aristocratic features.

"I hate you," she whispered forcefully, her stare locked in Draco's grainy black and white moving face. "It's your entire fault, did you know that?" She started pacing in front of the wall; Draco's face jumping out at her from every picture and causing her to glare all the more hatefully. His sneer always was a typical characteristic, and in a moving picture it didn't improve much. "I can't even…! Agh! You're everything bad, you're everything evil, you're everything…"

"His parents would be _so_ proud. Why don't you run and go tell them just that? They have been waiting to hear that for _ages_." At the sound of the silky purr, Ginny inwardly jumped, but the only physical sign of any notice was her fist as she wound it up more, her nails digging in her tender flesh.

Without turning around, she spoke. "Just _what_ are _you_ doing _here_? Oh, forget it, stupid _question_. I take it our favourite person has already exploded into his typical rant? Just _what_ did I do now?" she emphasized as she plucked an article from her 'Hell' wall looking completely nonchalant as she scanned the cut out that spoke of how 'the gorgeous Malfoy heir' was 'the most eligible bachelor' and just how blah blah…it just _screamed_ of _Witch Weekly_. Ginny still didn't comprehend how come she worked—_had_—in such a shallow magazine. How could they _praise_ and blather on so much about a fiend?

Stupidity should be punished with death…but then again, more than half of the people of the world would turn up dead, wouldn't they?

The thought made her snicker. Though pity it was cut rather short.

"I rather admire your weird ability to go from irked to jovial in two seconds flat, love." The burr erased all trace of diversion from her face as she came to count again that she actually had a _visitor_.

"And I _don't_ admire your ability to pop anyone else's good day. You just have to spoil it, hm?" she retorted as she magicked an empty binder from the stack of files that were on the floor and stuffed the article she had ripped from the wall into it.

"I rather doubt that getting fired would count as a good day, Ginevra," Blaise smirked as he casually leaned against her desk and assessed her with shrewd and bright eyes.

Upon his comment, however, she snapped around but managed to stop the glare from slipping into her impenetrable gaze as she looked at him. She lifted a corner of her mouth in a big resemblance of a smirk and responded.

"_And_ you're not making it any better, as I'm sure I already mentioned. _And_ this is going nowhere as I now mention, so would you please get to the horrible point?" she asked sweetly, making sure her fabricated dimple flashed as she placed her hands on her hips.

"Since when do men have to have a point when they want to see their girlfriends?" Blaise asked innocently as he toyed with a black paperweight.

"Oh, that's a good point," Ginny answered unruffled. "But see, I don't see any _men_ here, Blaisey dear," she finalized with a yearning sigh.

"And here I was, thinking you had grown up. Ah well, mortals do tend to make mistakes, you know," he answered as he straightened up and smoothed his black blazer. "I take it then that you won't care to hear about the simply perfect plan I devised to complement your utterly malevolent treacheries?" He gave a disappointed sigh and shrugged. "Oh well, I'll take it to the next scorned anonymous journalist who happens to hate Draco Malfoy and has a sex history with his best friend," he paused, as if thinking. "Pity, I believe there are quite a number of those out there. _Au revoir_ _cher un_!" He blew her a kiss and winked as he slowly and gracefully walked around her cubicle and disappeared into the hum of activity that was _Witch Weekly_.

"Damn him to Hades and back," Ginny cursed as she stood, hesitant against her Hell wall. It didn't really take that long. "Zabini! Get your hot arse back here, you insufferable sexy bastard!" Somehow that didn't quite sound as offensive as it had in her head.

"You called me dear? I heard something about hot arses and damn sexy bastards."

"We don't have a sex history," Ginny mumbled, trying to hide the fact that she was in fact, smiling.

"What was that, love? Couldn't quite catch it with those wonderful lips of yours refusing to cooperate," Blaise purred in her ear as he snaked a hand around her waist. Oh he was enjoying himself alright. He wanted to count in how many ways he could wind this girl up.

"Get your hands off me Blaise. I remember my recent plans of your castration quite lucidly, so you better keep your hands to yourself."

"My _castration_?" Blaise inquired, his dark eyebrow immediately shooting up. "Pity. You don't want to do that, love. There would be a lot of vengeful deprived witches after your delectable arse if you actually succeed," he declared with a faked wistful sigh, his hands still wrapped securely around her waist.

Leaning back against him, Ginny couldn't help herself, "I'm afraid that I would end up killing myself, then, if we're talking about _deprived_ witches," she murmured against his ear.

"My, is that a proposition, love?" he asked, trying to hide his own smile.

Giving a sigh, Ginny pulled herself from his grasp. "It would be if you were another person and I hadn't sworn off from sex life," she declared with a dismissive wave of her hand as she resumed her packing.

"Sworn off—?" Blaise couldn't even bring himself to finish the question.

"Why, yes, I'm a nun of the Draconian Order, we save ourselves for the one and only Draco Malfoy. And since we know that us mortals cannot possibly interest him we are charged with celibacy for the rest of our unfortunate and woeful lives," Ginny declared seriously.

"Celibacy?" Blaise inquired with a smirk. "I'm afraid I cannot take your word on that, _cher un_. You wouldn't be able to tolerate a single night without sex," he finished as he stepped closer to her, once again hugging her from behind. "I'm afraid your body was _made_ to suffer through that _pagan_ custom." His hands lowered to her hips and Ginevra silently agreed.

"Oh well, you can blame those randy nuns. Corrupt even the most saintly souls, they do." His chuckle brought a small smile to her lips. He always appreciated her comments.

"You really shouldn't have dumped me," he said lovingly. A smile was threatening his lips. He had almost forgotten this charming side of her. She was actually one of the few people that could make him smile sincerely. Pity that their time together had been cut short. But, as she had so accurately pointed out a week ago, it wasn't exactly her fault that they weren't together still. He had been wondering ever since. His head was swimming in _what if's _and _would's_ and _or's_. It was tiresome and repetitive. What if Pansy hadn't "found a use for him after all"? Would they still be together? Or their fling would have died out eventually, as it was typical when it involved him on the picture? Who would have ended the relationship, him? Her?

"And trio out with _Parkinson_?" she asked with disdain. "I can share sometimes, but really, Parkinson?" She sniffed as if highly offended, unaware that she had snapped him out of one of those uncommon reveries where he actually considered his future.

"Parkinson's a slut," Blaise declared carelessly, the remnants of his thoughts already blown away by the sprite in front of him.

"And it took you all this time to realize it," she snorted. "You had me between your legs, quite literally, mind you, and you chose her. What do you males see that I can't?" she asked curiously and not without a bit of hurt.

"Well, for one, you don't have to "woo your way into her pants". Her legs are always spread open. You have to admit that's a rather strong point," he smirked without holding back. He was sure that Ginevra wouldn't even notice that he had been crude. Ah, the joys of a household full of males.

"Ew, I can't believe we're actually discussing Parkinson, of all _things_," she said delicately, her pert nose wrinkled in distaste.

"I can't either, I can't either."

"So, Blaise darling, you ready to take me out for a late lunch?" Ginny simpered happily, a simple smile tracing her lips.

"Don't you have to finish pa—" he stopped himself as he looked around. The place was entirely cleaned out. There were only boxes upon boxes upon boxes…an endless tower that was staggering precariously, balanced with what Blaise was quite sure was magic. Three quarters of those boxes were labelled in bold letters spelling out '**Hell'** and a picture of Draco Malfoy scowling tagged at each and every one of them.

"I keep him as a reminder," she said with a shrug as she followed his gaze. Blaise raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question, but received no verbal answer. Though he wasn't quite sure he needed one.

"Ah, _touché_," he simply said, letting the matter rest for now as he led her away.

------------------------------------------

Draco angrily let go of the papers he had on his hand with an impatient growl as he ran a hand through his hair. He had been unable to concentrate all day long, and only that wench was to blame. Shakes had kept proving to be worthless and he was getting impatient as his private hound was rendered incapable. He hadn't been able to make a single dent on the dense question mark this "_LG_" represented and it had been more than two months already. It had Malfoy on the brim of madness. He had gone to work hoping to be able to push some things around and actually get something done, but here the calls of ravenous reporters were just as frequent and just as annoying. More so because important meetings were constantly being interrupted when a harried reporter managed to barge in through security and start with the repetitive questions which he could almost cite from memory already; merely by rote. What was so interesting about a life-less, albeit sneaky, journalist that didn't have anything else to do and suddenly decided to target one of the wealthiest bachelors in wizardkind son of the Dark Lord's ex-right hand by unearthing obscure family secrets, anyway?

"Damn her to hell and back," he growled as he slammed his chair back and grabbed his cloak, thundering out of his oppressing office and managing to extricate a yelp of surprise from his always cool secretary. "I shall not be returning, Flavia, I'm afraid this is all for the evening. If by any chance the phone rings," At that moment the phone decided to prove his comment irrelevant by doing exactly that, and it was all Draco Malfoy could do to stop himself from slamming it into the wall. "Please tell them that I am not available, nor shall I be for at least a week. It doesn't matter who it is, I shall not be disturbed. Not here, not at the Manor," he said lowly. "I don't want any kind of interruptions at my own household. If I happen to chance any kind of disaccord concerning a reporter calling my own house with stupid and inane questions, I will make sure to hold _you_ responsible for it," he growled as he walked away, his black cloak billowing behind him; darkly threatening.

He really should show some self-restraint, but at the moment those words were aliens to his vocabulary. He was angry enough to strangle anyone who would cross him, or his path. His only hope was to survive this trapped inside Malfoy Manor until he managed to find out the face behind the articles. When he found out her face, her name, he would be able to pinpoint the exact cause of this anger that she thought appropriate to vent in this way. If she wanted to unleash all her frustration, that simply was no way of going on about it, and he planned to tell her just that.

------------------------------------------

"_Merci beaucoup,_" Blaise intoned suavely and the waiter made away with a bow. Having already placed his order he took a long, calm sip from the wine that was sitting before him with a grace that blended his muscle movements into lazy elegance. The comfortable silence that had settled in between them was just occasionally broken with the far away clink of cutlery from the other tables nearby, the sensual murmur of hushed conversations and the lull of the slow beat music in the backdrop of the restaurant. It was a far cry from Ginny's life lately, and she couldn't help but revel in its relaxing atmosphere. Her life had been too hectic; with scrambles that led her nowhere as she tried to settle with her boss the sum of her remission check and while she tried to get her brain functioning enough to spill some scrawled words that mildly resembled a rough draft and just the tension of knowing that sooner or later Draco Malfoy would find out who she was, or who LG was or… It had finally taken its toll and she was more than ready to succumb to unconsciousness for a few weeks, only rising to eat and drink, only to once again fall into a deliciously oblivious stupor.

Ginny hadn't noticed that Blaise had been staring at her from the brim of his cup for quite a while. Mainly because her eyes had been closed, her body instinctively drinking the calming draught this environs offered and probably because she had all but forgotten that she was very much accompanied. "What is it, Blaise?" she asked simply, if not somewhat happily, her own hand reaching for her wine cup and immediately stilling as his suave baritone laced the killer question.

"He broke your heart, didn't he?"

"Straight for the bull's eye, hm?" she hummed as she finally brought her glass goblet to her lips, consciously not answering his question.

He clucked his tongue and shook his head in a playfully scolding manner. "So he did break you, didn't he?" She knew this would be coming sooner or later; Blaise wasn't one to stand by and let everything happen around him. He had to be part of the now, and she couldn't—wouldn't—stop the barrage of questions he was sure to send her way. It was inevitable, they both knew it, and even though it was a bit sooner than what Ginny's taste preferred, there was nothing she could do about it. He had every right to ask.

And she had every right to not answer.

"Do I look broken to you, Blaise?" she asked as she stood up, walked to his side and twirled especially for him, her black working robes a bit tatty but still fitting her well. The long sleeves only accentuated her tiny hands, and although the robes should have skimmed somewhere around two inches above the knees they now hit mid-thigh dead on. Her feet were clad with black trendy flats, and her legs were merely toned. Her long hair was tied up in a wanting-to-be bun at the back of her head and her face was flushed and relaxed. She was the picture of commodity and she looked every piece in place.

"Perhaps," Blaise drawled as he appraised her from head to toe with a penetrating gaze that would have reduced any female to an ecstatic shivering puddle.

"If I were, would you pick every _single_ piece?" she asked into his ear, and he could _feel_ her mischievous smirk as he failed to answer instantly. "And now, if you excuse me, I have to go to the loo, would you mind?" she continued to whisper in his ear.

"Would I mind what, love?" he asked indulgently.

"Would you mind ceasing your devouring of my persona?"

Ah, he had walked right into that one.

And she smirked at him that slow and so damn sexy smirk as she sashayed away, an extra beat to her hips.

_Touché_ indeed.

---------------------------------

**MUST READ_: I know, all that waiting for this. Although I kinda liked it. Even though it's short. So I apologize for not updating in such a while. Hopefully I'll be able to keep this rhythm up & keep my stories up to date. Oh, btw, I'll keep reloading the old chapters because I keep tweaking here & there to make them look a bit more presentable. There are not major changes that will affect the whole plot (could someone please tell me what it is?) but yeah, there's a bit moving around. Couldn't help it, I was reading it over & at parts, some lines, I just found them too immature or childish or whatever, so there are some words changed, cut, pasted, rearranged, you know the dance. You must not worry my fellow & faithful readers. Chapter ten is already under construction, & I shall be posting it within the week. That's a promise._**

**Reviews:**

**Mishavay: **Hey! First of all, thanks for the review. It sort of snapped me back into writing. I'm really glad you like this story so far, even though it hadn't been updated in _ages_. Hope to keep hearing more of you. I love your story, btw.

**Firefly820: **Lol. Thanks for the chocolate. Deeelicious. And DGB? Hmm…I think I shall leave that only for _Promised Redemption_. In here it may scare some readers away :snickers:

**KireiArrow: **Oh! Ppl are finally feeding me! Heeh, I'm sorry for this horribly late update, but I swear I'll try to stop that from happening again. Hope you keep liking the story.

**Coldflamez: **Thanks for the review. Really, those things are what keep me going, even though sometimes it doesn't appear. But I'm _so _thankful.

**Mem0rycafe: **aw, you make me blush! & it's a shame you hate camping. Although it sucked. Anyways, that was a long time ago, I hope you're still interested in this story of mine. Even though it's getting repetitive I'll say it again. I will update more frequently now. I adore your reviews. You make my day.

**Blissfulxsin:** aww! Chocolate! Gods, I'll just grow fat with so much food! Don't worry, it makes me feel loved. & I _know_! She's such a sucker. :snickers: but she's a _must_ for this story. Later I'll let you have a go at her. It doesn't matter if she doesn't come back alive. Huh. Thanks a lot for always being there.

**Youngwriter56:** Thanks again & again & again for your review.

**Napolean:** Ooh, you'll see in next chapter. Blaise has a card under his sleeve that hasn't been showed yet. He'll come to the rescue.

_**As always, thank you, EVERYONE out there for their constant support in this. I know I've been a sucker in the updates, but what's done is done. Hope you have a space to forgive me.**_

_**always & forever,**_

**_°_gyn**


	10. such a harpy

_**Don't like? Don't read, don't complain. Flames shall be used to roast marshmallows, thank you.**_

1064 hits last count! Wee-hee i'm so happie. then why did I only get two reviews :pouts: not fair! oh well, i'm grateful ppl are readin' this, neway.

**I wouldn't have killed James or Lily; I would've let Voldemort kill Harry & then have Prongs have a go at him. I wouldn't have sorted Ginevra into Gryffindor & I wouldn't have made the twins leave school. But _she_ did. Any questions?**

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"Have you managed to rise yourself out of your stupor?" Ginny said demurely as she smirked as she returned and took a seat across from Blaise. She looked smug as she accepted her food plate from the unobtrusive waiter and nodded her thanks.

"Feeling a bit snide, aren't we, Ginevra?" Blaise addressed casually, not even acknowledging that he was being served except for the dismissing wave of his hand as their food was settled into the table. He had outright laughed as she had disappeared into the ladies' room. She had made him walk right into it, and that by itself was quite a feat. He enjoyed her company very much.

"Is there a reason I should?" she asked innocently as she primly cut her steak. In a vain effort to hold her smile she sipped her wine, but found Blaise's eyes on her every movement. "Well, you did fall right into it, you can't exactly blame me for feeling a bit proud," she defended warmly. "Besides, it was nice seeing you stare," she chuckled. At least she had managed to divert his attention from the topic at hand. Maybe she wouldn't have to skive off his questions today. She wasn't exactly all revved up in anticipation. Besides, she needed more time to prepare her answers, make them airtight so she wouldn't slip some inadequate comment that would just wind up Blaise more.

"Well, a man can't really help himself," Blaise replied carelessly.

"Yes, well a _gentleman_ could," she drawled right back as she patted the quirking corners of her mouth with the soft napkin.

"Are you implying that I'm no gentleman?" he asked in mock indignation as he looked at her with swirling green eyes.

"I'm not implying anything, love, I'm telling you," she replied sweetly.

"Well," Blaise paused deliberately as if in profound concentration, but his eyes were dancing with merriment. "For once you're right, Ginevra." She raised her eyebrows in clear surprise at his acknowledgement, as she had clearly been expecting a rebuttal from his part. "A gentleman wouldn't remember just how marvellously round your arse is, or that you make some delightful little whimpering sounds when they're nipping at your ear and—" he stopped his listing murmuring at her sharp intake of breath. Oh, he could see the flush creeping to her cheeks.

"Shut up, Blaise," she muttered, ducking her face to stop her blush from showing. A futile thing to do, since Blaise had already seen the spreading stain on her cheeks. "And let me tell you that I do _not_ make whimpering noises when they nibble at my ear!" she exclaimed a bit too loudly after a moment's beat. Conversation at the nearby tables ceased and everyone turned to look at her with unbelievable gazes. They were, after all, in a public place and Blaise appeared to be quite aware of the fact as he was the only one sporting a huge grin. Ginny just cursed and drowned her face into her hands.

"I hate you, Zabini," she muttered against her fingers.

"I'm done, are you, Ginevra dear?" he asked as he ignored her last comment with an air of indifference. He really tried to keep the mischievous tone from his voice, but the grin on his face betrayed him as he extended his hand to help Ginny out of her seat. She accepted it reluctantly, muttering something about "trapping Slytherins" and "cheeky bastards" along the way.

------------------------------

"Well Shakes?"

Draco was seated comfortably in his study, lying back with his feet propped in his incredibly expensive mahogany desk carved with snakes. His eyes were shrewd as he observed the man that was standing firmly on the doorway; feet planted firmly apart, hands clasped in front of him, eyes staring straight ahead, his incredible bulk obscuring the view of the hall. Augustine Shakes was a large man with non-descript brown whitening hair and a face that was too easily forgotten. His eyes were small, watery brown in colour, set deep inside a face that contained too many haggard planes, easily mapped by the passing of time, to which his mouth was a stout adversary. Thin lips that were always resolutely set in a grim expression were upon a strong, albeit struggling chin. His brows were bristly and long, serving as a ceiling for his beady eyes. It was not a face that you remembered for long, nor did you wish to remember, which was one of the main reasons Draco had found a use for him for so many years even after all the insolence the man managed to display. The man was cunning in the most discreet way, he covered his tracks well and he did his job in the shortest time possible, always reaping the wanted results. That was the reason why Draco was getting impatient. Shakes had never failed to bring him information within the week, and this case _was_ the exception.

"I assume you have something to report, or else, you wouldn't even dare set a foot inside my Manor. I gave explicit orders to not be interrupted, but you appeared to be quite insistent. I take it you have something relevant for me, then?" he started, straight to the point. There was no time to waste. If Shakes indeed had some information—and the only information he wanted from him was a fucking name—then his plan could start its motion.

"Indeed, _sir_."

Draco didn't like the emphasis he put on the word sir. Something was up this guy's arse, and it was getting to the limit of Draco's rather shallow patience. Arching an eyebrow he decided to let that one pass. He was too anxious for the information to spend the time reprimanding an underdog that was getting too insolent. He could always do that later. Later when he had already toppled that journalist's career. When everything was returned to normality and he had returned to be the favourite bachelor of _Witch Weekly_ and obscure family secrets were kept that way: obscure and _secrets_.

"Well?" His patience had never been on the high level and it seemed that Shakes was willing to try him to see just how far he would be able to go without a single reprimand or harsh word thrown in for good measure. Well, today was not a good day for that. It had been a horrible week and Draco was about to snap at him to get his arse in motion, but Shakes proved a mind-reader since he took out a manila envelope from thin air and threw it casually at Draco's desk, sliding to a stop just beside his feet.

"_You_ can see for yourself, _sir_." And with that, the insolent man walked away, leaving a torn Draco behind. Torn between devouring the whole envelope that contained precious information or going after him and beating his arse into a bloody pulp. The former being the one that proved more reason he decided to ignore the latter.

He would deal with Shakes later.

Later.

---------------------------

"So would you mind discussing that brilliant little plan of yours now?" Ginny asked as she strolled down the streets of Diagon Alley arm in arm with Blaise Zabini. After her embarrassing exit out of that restaurant she had needed a time to cool down before she planted a blow to his crotch.

"You cooled down already?" he asked with an amused chuckle.

"It was _not_ funny, let me assure you, Zabini," she all but growled as she continued looking straight ahead, smiling pleasantly at the passers-by. "You do realize that I hate you, don't you?" she asked sweetly as she waved at a small girl that was walking by with her mother.

"I'm sorry to be the one to break this to you Ginevra, but _I_ did absolutely nothing. You were the one who hanged herself."

"Oh I know that's true, Zabini. You were just kind enough to place the noose against my unaware throat," she retorted.

"Stop whining, Ginevra," he answered good-naturedly. "We're supposed to be spending a good time and you're positively ruining it." Ginny scoffed as she hit him on the arm. "I hadn't noticed how utterly feminine you are, love," he drawled.

"Oh shut up." Ginny told him as she shoved him another one for good measure. "You're just being a nasty bugger, and you know it," she sniffed in indignation.

"Well, I have never known a _nice_ bugger," he commented innocently and right out laughed when he saw that Ginny had narrowed her eyes and was glaring at him, a scowl marring her precious lips. Oh, it just was too easy to get this one riled up. She sure did live up to her redhead prestige.

Then, surprisingly, she calmed down. Her blue eyes returned to their normal size and a sweet smile replaced the scowl in a matter of milliseconds. Arching an eyebrow at her bipolarity he let it pass without comment as they continued their pleasant walk down Memory Lane. As they rounded a corner, unexpectedly her grip on his arm tightened painfully, surprising Blaise into a stop, his eyes immediately scanning her face for any sign of intense pain from her part as she had stopped rather abruptly, but received a nasty shock as her rather long nails dug into his tender flesh and the sweet smile returned in full force as he hissed in pain and wildly shook her hand out of his arm.

"What was that? Couldn't quite catch it, dear," she said innocently with a happy smile on her face. Narrowing his eyes and pursing his lips he just took her hand in his and continued their stroll, uninterrupted. "Well?" she asked after an interminable silence between them and the lane didn't seem to end. "Aren't you going to tell me the whole point of this outing? You're supposed to have a plan!" she pouted as she stomped her feet like a child.

"How positively charming," he commented as he watched her throw a tantrum in the middle of the street.

"Do you want any more marks, Zabini?"

---------------

"Go and _interview_ the bastard?" she screeched. Pigeons flew away, startled out of their calm pecking by the incredibly loud voice that boomed out of that petite body. She started pacing in front of the bench they were seating on in the Nicholas Flamel Park, her hands gesticulating wildly in the air. "Are you insane? Holy fuck, you must be. I would kill the prick, do you wish him _dead_?" She emphasized the word dead with a slicing motion at her throat with her index finger. "Believe me, if I see the arse he would end up in Mungo's with a treatment for incurable hexing and physical impossibilitation of procreation."

"Impossibilitation," he repeated with a sceptically arched eyebrow, looking at the show the small witch was presenting. "Dear, I'm not sure if that word exists," he said neutrally as he was getting dizzy from her pacing.

"Doesn't matter." She waved her hand dismissively. "Are you insane?" she repeated as she stood planted in front of him, her small hands at her hips, feet wide apart.

"Yes, I'm afraid that's a possibility," he confirmed with a curt nod. "But I gather that's the only _plausible_ thing for you to do at this moment and recover your job. Because you do want your job, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course I do, I love writing," she said honestly as she collapsed beside him. "It's just that it doesn't sound—reasonable."

"I know it doesn't, Ginevra, but think about it. Do you have any other plan at the moment? You're penniless, jobless and irate. I believe that's quite a problem for you, for anyone," he said simply. And she sighed and rubbed her face.

"It seems like it, doesn't it?" she asked with a weak smile.

"_But_ I'm offering you a solution that, once you think about it, doesn't seem as unreasonable as it first appears to be. Think about it. Gloria fired you because you didn't present an article about Draco's reaction to your own article, though of course she doesn't know that, but that's beside the point, and if you do present one with an _exclusive_ interview with him she's bound to take you back. Hell, maybe you can even sell her the article. Maybe you can even interview me, as his best friend I'm bound to have an opinion."

"Like you're important at the moment," Ginny snorted.

"I'm just as sexy as Draco Malfoy, let me assure you. Gloria would love to have a wall-sized picture of me on the nude; I know that for a fact. The commodities of eavesdropping, you know," he commented wistfully.

"Ew, I believe you just shared too much information, Zabini," she commented as she wrinkled her nose and he shrugged.

"You can technically do whatever you want, love, so?" he prodded mildly.

"Do I really have another option?" she asked with a glare.

"So much for gratitude," he snorted. "You're _such_ a harpy." His comment was received with a whack at the back of his head.

------

natters-nutters: **_Short but sweet. You can't say no. Don't worry, this is not all. It just felt right to end it there, but inspiration wasn't cut short or anything. I was just eager to update more. It had been so long since I had taken care of this story that I believe it deserves it. Am I going too slow? I think I am, because after nine chapters I still haven't gotten anywhere. But oh well. Hope you enjoyed this. Please review? I would love to know what you think of this story. Oh, and mem0ry, as always. Thanks a million. This chapter goes to you, of course. Such a faithful reader._**

_**Ta.**_

_**always & forever,**_

_**°Gyn**_


	11. of mobile ringtones & italics

_**Don't like? Don't read, don't complain. Flames shall be used to roast marshmallows, thank you.**_

Yay! Another update! Give me some lovin' you ppl! Thanx a ton for the reviews, you have no idea how much they encourage me. I'm just ecstatic. mem0ry, you're so right. you're most entertaining :snickers:. Thanx for always sticking with me all the way. Love ya! uh huh. Oh, & to **jjp, **no, she hasn't revealed why she hates him so much, but she will later on of course, but of course she doesn't want Blaise to know about it. That's why in chapter nine (or was it ten?) she smoothly changed the topic into safer territory. She's not quite ready to reveal it as of yet. Thanx for the reviews, you guys make my day!

**I wouldn't have made Wormtail a Gryffindor. I would've made him a muggle, or worst yet, a Hufflepuff. I wouldn't have made Blaise black; and I wouldn't have made Harry have a Firebolt before Malfoy. But wait, I wouldn't have let Harry live, so why am I even talking about him?**

**--------------------------------------------**

"And pray, tell me, am I going to get an interview with the prick? No, blast that. How am I going to get an _exclusive_ out of the prick? He can't even stand my face for one second, what makes you think he will be able to stand me for the _day_ this so-called interview would take?" Ginny asked sceptically at Blaise. They were still at the park, and the pigeons had returned, apparently growing accustomed to her natural screeching after a while. Besides, it was their park, screeching humans could go and meet Hades for all they cared. It was getting late, but apparently Blaise was the only one aware of the fact as he had listened to the woman rant on and on, repeating the same questions over and over again and not even giving him the chance of answering them.

"I would have managed to tell you two hours ago if you didn't keep interrupt—"

"He's too much of a bastard to ever accept see me, so just _how_ are you going to manage, eh?" She emphasized with a hard poke at his chest. Blaise was getting really, really tired of all this. So okay, the witch had to vent. But four hours? That was more than time enough to even purge _poison_ out of your damn body.

"Ginevra, shut up," he interrupted bluntly. He really had tried every other tactic to get her to stop, but apparently had been trying at it from the wrong angle, because as soon as he had said those magic words, he had had her stumped. "Who would've thought it would be that easy?" he muttered sarcastically as he internally rolled his eyes. "Listen," he commenced once he was sure she had indeed shut her trap and he just hadn't gone deaf. After all those hours of screeching you never knew. "And listen very well, because I'm _not_ going to repeat myself to a _Gryffindor_," he sneered and held a hand up to stop her rage as he saw her opening her mouth to start another tirade. "You've probably gone daft if you haven't realized that _I'm_ Malfoy's _best mate_. He was not programmed to say no to me. Dearest, I was sorted into Slytherin for a reason," he answered before she even had a time to question.

"Because you have a dark ancestry and your family was indeed very much allied with Voldemort?" she snickered and he glared, un-amused.

"_That_ can't be proven, so shut your trap, you wench. And no, it was because I happen to be a rather cunning person, thank you very much," he drawled. "Now stop interrupting, you're getting to be a touch irksome." _And_ that had to be the understatement of the year. More like bloody infuriating. But Blaise wasn't really going to set this one witch off again. Merlin knew that when she was in a reel, she was in a reel. He smirked at her offended pout. She had her arms crossed and he wasn't looking him in the face. But right now, that couldn't have possibly mattered less to Blaise. She was _quiet_.

"Well, aren't you going to go on?" she asked with an impatient huff as she saw that he apparently was in no hurry. "I happen to be a very busy woman," she declared.

"I'm sure you are, love," Blaise acquiesced with a smile. "With your work and all, I know how pressured you must feel." Ginny glared at him for the implication that she was very much jobless. She didn't have to be reminded, thank you very much. She happened to have it very present in her mind. So she just harrumphed and proceeded to sulk.

Blaise chuckled and mentally shook his head. She really was a darling. "I can very much get you an interview with—" he frowned as he was interrupted yet again. But coincidentally, Ginny hadn't opened her mouth and was just staring at him.

"_What you gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside your trunk? I'm gonna get, get, get you drunk, get you love drunk off my hump. My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump—_"

Ginny blinked owlishly at Blaise for two seconds before it sunk in. Then she collapsed into a fit of hysterical giggles as she realized that the song was indeed coming from _Blaise_.

"_Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky, riiight. They say I'm really sexy. They boys they wanna sex me. They always standin' next to me, always dancin' next to me. Tryin' a feel my hump, hump. Looking at my lump, lump. You can look but you can't touch it-_"

"Ginevra, what the hell is that?" Blaise asked, annoyed that he had been interrupted by such a _thing_.

"—_my lovely lady lumps, my lovely lady lumps, my lovely lady lumps. In the back and in the front—_"

"Blaise," Ginny said with a breathless giggle. "I do believe that's your mobile ringing." And she dissolved again into helpless laughter. This was too hilarious.

"It's not," Blaise said offended. As they heard the song go on Blaise widened his eyes in disbelief. By Merlin, it _was _his phone.

"I—I can't believe that—that's your mo—mobile."

"—_she's got me spendin'. Spendin' all your money on me and spending time with me—_" Blaise finally snatched out the offending article and snapped it open, cutting off the rhythmic music.

"Shut up, this is not funny," he glared at the laughing woman while he held his mobile against his chest, trying to muffle their voices while he took his time to reprimand the redhead.

"Oh, but it is," Ginny replied breathlessly as she clutched her aching stomach. "It—it's a lovely so—song, _love_," she giggled and was unable to continue.

"We're not done yet," he threatened as he turned away to finally answer the call. "Zabini speaking," he growled out, Ginny's laughter in the background irking him all the more.

"_Zabini, I have excellent news._" As soon as he heard the voice he was ready to kill the owner.

"This better be good, Malfoy," he said narrowly. He was quite sure it had been Malfoy who had changed the ring tone in his mobile from its typical slow chime and he wasn't really in the mood to be dealing with the cheeky bastard.

"_What's up your arse, Zabini?_"

"You," he retorted angrily. Then mentally slapped himself as he realized how that might have sounded like. The long pause that ensued assured him that it had indeed been taken quite the wrong way. "Err, and your stupid muggle songs," he tried to amend quickly. Damn, now he was considered a homosexual. "Listen, you just embarrassed the hell out of me in front of a girl." He internally sighed. _Nice save, Zabini_, he congratulated himself smugly. That statement would null out whatever Draco had been thinking about his sexuality at the moment and would explain just why he was ready to hang him as he heard the chuckle at the other line.

"_I take it you didn't exactly appreciate my sense of humour?"_

"Like hell I did," he snapped. "Honestly Dray, _My Humps_?" he hissed. Apparently too loudly, if Ginny's renewed fit of hysterical giggles was any sign. "You better explain yourself quickly, I'm busy you know. Unlike many people I happen to have a life."

"_Well, you left your mobile unattended for quite a time while at my Manor. You have to admit it was too much of a temptation to res—"_ Draco started to explain but was cut off by Blaise.

"Not that, you idiot. I know why you did that, you arse. Rather a pathetic attempt at being funny, I may add. But I was talking about the fucking phone call." Blaise turned around to peer over his shoulder at Ginny. The girl apparently had gotten over her fit and was now boringly staring at her nails, which were in a rather urgent need of a manicure if you asked Blaise.

"—_Zabini? Are you even listening?"_

"Not really," he responded automatically as Ginny lifted her head to look curiously at him, wondering what was taking him so long. "Listen Dray, I'm kinda busy right now, can't this wait for another moment, another _day_, perhaps?"

"_No, it can't. Blaise, Shakes finally got it."_

"What?" Blaise asked, snapping back into attention.

"_Her name, Blaise. Shakes finally nailed her. Can you believe it? You won't believe who she is. The filthy traitor. Where are you?"_ Draco asked, and without thinking Blaise answered, his mind spinning with horrifying thoughts, every single one of them consisting of Ginny inside a coffin being lowered into the ground.

"At the Nicholas Flamel Park, why?"

"_Listen, you don't mind if I Apparate right in do you? Brilliant, see you in a moment."_ And the line went dead.

"Wait! No Draco! That's not a good idea!" But it was futile yelling at a beeping line. Horrified, Blaise turned to look at Ginny, sitting there with a pout in her lips as she waited for him to finish talking.

"Blaise! Finally, damn you, I was getting bored," she declared as she stood up and walked up to meet him halfway there. "What's the matter with you?" she asked once she took in his blank face and neutral eyes. "Oh no, don't you go all Slytherin on me, Blaise Zabini. It was just a song, get over it." He really needed to tell Ginny to get the hell out of there, but somehow his mouth wasn't functioning properly. "Blaise?" Ginny asked worriedly as she received no reaction whatsoever from the green-eyed guy. Frowning she peered at him. There was no emotion in his face, but his jaw was clenched. "Blaise!" she shouted and started waving her arms in front of him, but it was to no avail. He had officially gone out of his mind. "What the hell is up with this guy?" She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she started to pace. "Blaise?" she tried again. "Fine, be that way," she huffed and started to go to the bench when a loud _crack_! resounded all over the park, signalling an Apparition. Wheeling around she was face to face with none other than the protagonist of her Hell Wall.

"Oh my fucking Morgana."

But curiously it hadn't been her who had spoken. Blaise had finally decided to open his mouth.

------------------

"Yeah," she echoed with wide eyes.

"Ginevra, I believe that perhaps this may be the moment to _run,_" Blaise declared with his typical cool drawl, the only sign of his anxiousness the darting of his eyes. Draco Malfoy was standing on the Apparition spot, an elegant eyebrow raised as he saw his best friend with a rather small witch. _Nice body, check…_

"Yeah," she repeated mindlessly as she stared at him. _No brain, check,_ Draco continued with his inspection. _No money, by the looks of her robes, check. Red hair, check._

"I believe you have gotten yourself a gold-digging weasel, Blaise, lucky you. Oh, and stop staring, Weasley, it's making me nauseous," he sneered deprecatingly.

All kind of crazy thoughts were running rampant inside Ginny's flabbergasted if not chaotic mind. _He's discovered me, he's discovered me,_ was a constant chant inside her head while another, more rational part of her tried to convince her otherwise. _He couldn't, Ginny. How could he? Not even Gloria knows, calm down!_

_The twins, the twins!_ Her mind shrieked in answer. Oh Merlin. If they were the ones who had opened their mouth…she didn't even want to think about it.

_They're family; they would never do that to you. Calm down. Breathe. Take deep, calming breaths, Ginny, he can't possibly know. You _must_ calm down, or we won't be getting anywhere anytime soon._

_Well, it was Blaise then_, she continued, grasping at loose straws.

_Don't be an arse._

"Draco," Blaise all but gulped as he saw Draco staring down Ginny. Why wasn't he doing anything? "Listen Draco, of course I can explain, she's—"

"What is she doing here?" Draco interrupted him as he breezed past Ginny without a second glance. "I thought I told you we had to talk?" he asked pointedly.

"Well, no one's stopping you, Malfoy," Ginny snapped, his earlier comment finally kicking in into her befuddled mind. If she was going to die she was going to go down proudly. Damn all snakes to hell and back.

"I believe this is absolutely none of your business Weasley, so _please_," he sneered the please. "Refrain from butting in where you're not requested."

"Draco, I believe I did tell you I was busy," Blaise drawled in an accusing manner as he inched between Draco and Ginny. He still wasn't sure why Draco hadn't killed her as of yet, but he really wasn't going to accelerate the process.

"With _what_?" Oh, they would have been great buddies if their grammar was any sign of it.

"For someone as spoiled as you, you're grammar is dreadfully appalling Malfoy," Ginny drawled in a perfect imitation of Blaise in the restaurant so many days ago, when they had finally re-met. "Whom," she corrected.

"In your case I'm afraid it is a _what_, Weasley," Draco responded back just as lazily. Oh, the best of mates, indeed.

"Draco, just proceed to ignore her," Blaise interrupted carelessly.

"Hey!" Ginny exclaimed as she slapped him in the forearm. "I'll take that as a personal offence."

"I believe it was one, Weasley."

"Oh shut up Malfoy, I do believe nobody has directed a bloody statement to you as of now, so stuff your thumb up your tight aristocratic arse," she shot back, forgetting that her life was actually at risk. She couldn't believe the gall of this prat.

"Ginny, please, stuff it. You're not doing this any easier," Blaise said commandingly as he gave her a meaningful glance, all his gentlemanly mannerisms forgotten in the midst of this crisis, and Ginny's mouth fell open.

Was he actually telling her off!

He _was_, the insufferable bastard! And in front of a smirking Malfoy, no less. The traitorous arse. She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him and he nervously cleared his throat. With a huff she went and rooted herself at the park bench, her arms crossed, an incredible pout on her face and her short legs, which didn't reach the floor, swinging angrily. She really was getting tired of all the Slytherins. And it didn't matter that Blaise was actually nice when you got over all his perverted-ness, he was being mean and she was _not_ going to tolerate it. No matter how fond she was of him at the moment. If he was going to turn into an arse every time he stumbled upon any of his old schoolmates he could say buh-bye to their friendship. A scowl entrenched itself firmly between her brows. Men, really. And they said women were _hormonal_ and _volatile_.

"Blaise, what the hell is bloody Weasley doing here?" Draco hissed as he pointed at her.

"It's _rude _to point, you prick!" Ginny yelled. "Not that you would know anything of manners."

"Oh, that's rich coming from you," Draco laughed. "I know a hell of a lot more than you do, you rat-tat, second hand clothed witch!" Draco called back. "Like not sticking your uninvited snotty nose in other people's business!"

"Oh bugger," Blaise sighed as he ran a tired hand over his hair. This was going to be a long moment of his life. "Draco," he said tiredly. "Just tell me, this is getting to be a tad annoying," Blaise went on, dropping all mannerisms. He was, after all, with his best mate, no need for anything except the more basic verbs, nouns and adjectives.

"With her in here? There's no way in bloody hell," Draco responded as he glared at the sulking Ginny. "Look at her; she's acting like a _child_, for Merlin's sake. I really did think you had better tastes, Zabini. My respect for you has just dropped to the bottom of hell frozen over." Blaise rolled his eyes at him.

"It's not a date, arse. And besides, believe me, there's nothing you can tell me that she won't know already," Blaise said sarcastically, but it appeared that Draco was not quite in his same channel as he looked at him quizzically.

"You _told_ her?" he asked angrily. "Zabini, I thought this matter was confidential and that it would stay between us!" he hissed as he gestured at the two of them.

"I didn't tell her anything. You could say that she actually would know more than you," he muttered with a smirk.

"What?" Draco asked in a bewildered fashion. He wasn't quite catching was Blaise was saying.

"Oh, just—she knows everything okay? She _works_ at _Witch Weekly_, you know?"

"Oh, bloody hell," Draco groaned. "That's just fucking great Zabini, just dandy. And you couldn't tell me you had a _reporter_ with you? Probably she's writing down everything we're saying right now. Can't you think?"

"She's not a reporter, she's a journalist," he threw in mindlessly, his mind trying to understand what was going on. "Besides, she doesn't have a notepad. Ginny always needs a muggle yellow notepad to take notes." Draco had claimed to know the identity of LG, but _why _wasn't he strangling Ginny by now? He was missing something, and Draco was the only person who could dissolve all his doubts. "Listen, we can go to _Profundis Clamor_ and you can tell me all about it," he suggested. "No, wait, not to _Profundis Clamor_. Today's mother's visiting day. There's no way in bloody hell she will find me home. We can go…"

"And why not here?" Draco challenged. Really, was today the day of 'Let's-get-difficult-on-Blaise-because-the-arse-deserves-it'?

"Because _here's_ a public place where any paparazzi that are following you would be able to take any note of what we—_you_ are saying. So we're going to a private lounge I know of. No person with a camera can go in, don't worry," he reassured.

"Okay."

"Great, now we only have to get Ginny to agree," Blaise murmured and both men turned to look at the petite redhead.

"What are you looking at, you prick heads?"

------------------------------

"Well, I do believe we have all gotten over the childish phase, have we?" Blaise asked chirpily as he lugged a tied Ginny over his shoulder.

"I don't understand why I'm the one who's tied," Ginny complained from Blaise's back. "But you're _so_ going to pay, Zabini. You will remember me for the rest of your days! You have no idea what—"

"You forgot the gag, Zabini," Draco commented with a smirk and Ginny glared at him.

"I thought I had told you to stick your thumb up your pale and tight aristocratic poor excuse of an arse," she said as she slapped Blaise's back.

"I do believe the adjective list just keeps getting longer," Blaise chuckled as he rearranged Ginny so her raging kicks wouldn't be able to slap his most vulnerable parts.

"I still don't understand why she has to come along," Draco said childishly. "You know I can refuse to talk at all if I want to. I don't understand what she has to do with any of this."

"Look, I promised Molly," At the mention of her mother's name Ginny stopped kicking and arched her eyebrow at him. Blaise had never mentioned her mother, and if it was it was to comment on just where Ginny had gotten her curves from. It had always been "Mrs. Weasley" and never just plain "Molly". "That I would get her back by eleven and that I would be spending all that time with her. You have seen how she is; do you still have to ask?" She really, really had to snort at that. As if her mother would ever let her go out with the prick. If Molly ever saw her only daughter with a Slytherin she would die of a heart attack.

"Well, why are you out on a date with her, for starters?" Draco smirked.

"This-is-not-a-date," Ginny said through gritted teeth, emphasizing every word with a hard kick at Blaise's stomach.

"No, it's not," Blaise readily agreed with a pained tone. "I don't tend to go out with harpies," he muttered, but Ginny heard him, if the last kick was any indication.

As the normal passers-by stared at the trio Ginny grinned toothily and wiggled her fingers in a wave. "You know," she started thoughtfully. "I could just start screaming that you two are sequestering me," she had to stop as she was interrupted by Malfoy's snort.

"Don't use words that are too big for your little mouth, Weasley, you may lose your tongue," he drawled.

"Oh, I know you would miss it terribly, don't worry, I can take care of myself." As if to prove her point she kneed Blaise in the strategic place of his chest. "See?" she asked sweetly as she heard his painful _"oomph"_. "My ex-boyfriend and my childhood nemesis are kidnapping me. How does that sound? Appropriately fitting, don't you think?"

"You wouldn't dare, Ginevra," Blaise growled as his grip in her tightened.

"I wouldn't?" she asked innocently. As soon as another person was in sight, Ginny opened her mouth in a big, round and rather dangerous 'o'.

"Shit, Blaise, drop her, drop her!" Draco hissed as the first words left Ginny's mouth.

"HELP! HELP! I'M BEING KID—AAH!"

"RUN!" Blaise shouted and they streaked away.

-------------------

_Lol, that was funny to write. I loved the part where Blaise's mobile is ringing. That was hilarious. I've had the song playing in my head for a while and I just couldn't help but insert it there. And it was almost unconsciously that I started to write it and it just fit. If you think it sort of ruins the mood say so, though I won't change it. Huh. It's by _Black Eyed Peas_ as I'm sure most of you know, and it's called _My Humps._ Although I'm not quite sure how coherent I managed to sound, I'm posting this without proofreading it, so if you find any mistakes, let me know. I would love to hear from my readers. That is, if I have any. Thanks for sticking with me. See? I'm keeping my promise! This is my second update in the week! Yay! You should feed me lots and lots of chocolate, you ingrates._

_Ta!_

_**always & forever,**_

_**°Gyn**_


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